Ruto and Kenyatta will both stand trial at the The Hague, but may survive politically.

On 23^rd January 2012 a panel of judges at the ICC (International Criminal Court) announced a majority decision that four Kenyans, part of the so-called Ocampo Six, will face charges of crimes against humanity, murder, rape, forcible expulsion and other inhumane acts. The four include Deputy Prime Minister and Finance Minister Uhuru Kenyatta, suspended Higher Education Minister William Ruto, the head of the public service Francis Muthaura and radio presenter Joshua Sang.

Announcing the decision, Judge Ekaterina Trendafilova of Bulgaria was quick to point out that this is only the beginning of an elaborate trial process, with the accused still presumed innocent and not barred from holding public office in Kenya. The first pre-trial hearing will be in September 2012. The four accused have the right to appeal the decision of the three person pre-trial chamber.

The reactions of Kenyan politicians to the ruling were predictably quick. All four  accused issued statements expressing their intention to appeal the ICC ruling. Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto, two declared presidential candidates, reaffirmed their intention to run for the top job in the next general elections. In his reaction to the ruling, President Kibaki asked the Attorney General to form a legal committee to draft a coherent government response. Vice President Kalonzo Musyoka expressed solidarity with the accused (Musyoka was the face of the ill-fated attempts last year to lobby the Africa Union and the United Nations Security Council to refer the cases back to Kenya.[i]) Prime Minister Raila Odinga stressed that the accused remained innocent until proven guilty, expressing hope that justice will be served for the victims of the 2007-2008 post-election violence (PEV).

The Political Consequences

The ICC ruling will no doubt have a significant impact on Kenyan politics, especially as the country gears up for a general election in December of this year or in March of 2013. Both Ruto and Uhuru have expressed their desire to contest the presidential election. The ruling also presents important legal questions that will test the temerity of the new captains of the Kenyan judiciary, which is currently undergoing significant reforms.

Firstly, there is the question of whether or not the two of the four accused, Kenyatta and Muthaura, should resign from public office. There is an almost even split among legal experts over whether or not the constitution requires those accused of crimes such as the two are facing to vacate office. Their supporters insist that the law only bars suspects of economic crimes from holding public office. Most of Kenyan Civil Society thinks otherwise.

Related to this is the fact that on receiving the Waki Report on the PEV on 16 December 2008, Kibaki and Odinga signed an agreement mandating that those charged with crimes related to the PEV should neither hold public office nor contest for any elective office. Civil Society groups will no doubt also refer to this agreement in their calls to have the two to be let go by the president.

Secondly, come the time to nominate presidential candidates, the Chairman of the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) will have to decide whether or not both Ruto and Kenyatta can run for president while facing charges of crimes against humanity. The IEBC Chairman, Mr. Issack Hassan, has so far avoided dealing with the question, insisting that it would be presumptuous to give an opinion before the two submit their candidacies. This decision point will present yet another opportunity for the country to debate the importance of personal integrity among holders of public office.

These two legal contestations will most certainly wind up in court. It is telling that immediately after the ruling was announced President Kibaki instructed the Attorney General to form a committee to draft the government’s official response. This might merely be a stalling tactic to cool down Civil Society groups (which are already calling for the dismissal of Kenyatta and Muthaura) while the president’s camp formulates a coherent and legally tenable reaction.

It is important to note that the vagueness of Chapter 6 of the Kenyan Constitution on the integrity of holders of public office will afford the judiciary immense discretionary powers in providing a ruling on the matter. Given recent spats between the executive and judiciary on ICC related issues, this must cause the latter a good deal of discomfort. [ii]

How will this affect the next general elections?

The simple answer is that it is too early to tell. The important thing to know is that given Kenya’s ethnic arithmetic and the new electoral rules it will be hard for any of the major presidential candidates to win on their own. Presently the man to beat is Odinga, who is polling at around 32%. Kenyatta is second at 22%.[iii] Kenya’s electoral law requires an elected president to garner over 50% of the vote and have majorities in at least half of the country’s 47 counties.

Given these requirements, it is very likely that the presidential election will go to a runoff between the top two candidates. Many believe that Odinga will make it past the first round. As a result, politicians united in common opposition to Odinga are working hard to form alliances with a view of beating him (Odinga) either in the first round or in a runoff.

The unfortunately named KKK (Kalenjin, Kikuyu and Kamba alliance – formed by Ruto, Kenyatta and Musyoka) and its successor, the G7, is such an alliance that has been formed by various regional politicians with a view of having competitive primaries and then fielding a joint candidate against Odinga. The other major alliance is the Party of National Unity (PNU; the party Kibaki used for his re-election bid.) But antagonisms within these alliances make unity in the anti-Odinga bloc highly unlikely. As is the case across most of Sub-Saharan Africa, incentives abound that hinder party unity.[iv]

The alternative that has been mooted is for each major candidate to go it alone in the first round (thus preventing an outright Odinga win) and then support whoever emerges second against Odinga in the runoff. But even this choice has received little enthusiasm because it effectively guarantees Kenyatta the anti-Odinga candidacy in the runoff.

So how might the ICC ruling affect alliance building ahead of the elections? Firstly, the ruling will most likely bring Kenyatta and Ruto closer, at least in the short term. While for now the two have self-interested reasons to be together, it is not guaranteed that their grassroots supporters will play along in the long run. After all the question of land, which was at the heart of the clashes in the Rift Valley between Kalenjin supporters of Odinga/Ruto and Kikuyu supporters of Kibaki/Uhuru, remains unresolved. Indeed Ruto has already witnessed a mutiny in his own backyard in which he was prevented from taking over a party that he wanted to decamp to (he is still technically in Odinga’s Orange Democratic Movement, ODM.)

Secondly, there is speculation that should the two be barred from running for president they might settle for a compromise candidate in the likes of Vice President Kalonzo Musyoka, MP Eugene Wamalwa or former cabinet minister Raphael Tuju.[v] But such an eventuality is also fraught with uncertainties. For one, it is unclear that the old establishment behind Kibaki and Kenyatta would settle for the untested hands of the two newcomers – Wamalwa and Tuju. Nobody, especially if you may have some ill-gotten wealth stashed away, wants surprises in the presidency. In addition, many of them already deeply distrust Musyoka whom they see as an opportunist out to benefit from Kenyatta and Ruto’s woes. In the end they may settle for the devil they know, Mr. Odinga. It is telling that a section of the Central Kenya business elite, Mr. Uhuru’s backyard, have started warming up to Raila. [vi]

While it might be too early to ascertain the full political impact of the ICC’s ruling, there is no doubt that it will provide a real test to Kenyan institutions – especially the judiciary. The courts will have to decide, amid intense political pressure, whether or not the accused are fit to hold public office and by extension whether those that want to can run for president.  Ultimately, however, a lot will turn on the decisions made by President Kibaki. Will he stand by his trusted lieutenants in Muthaura and Kenyatta or will he bow to public pressure and ditch them in an attempt to secure his legacy?

Ken Opalo is a a graduate student of Political Science at Stanford. His research interests include the political economy of development, ethnic politics and leadership accountability, and legislative development in eastern and southern Africa. He blogs at http://kenopalo.wordpress.com/

The Boy Next Door by Irene Sabatini, Little Brown and Company, New York, 2009, 403pp.

The Trial of Robert Mugabe by Chielo Zona Eze, Okri Books, Chicago, 2009, 158pp.

Reviewed by James Kilgore

The arrival of these two new voices on the Zimbabwe literary scene is cause for celebration.  Both authors offer a nuanced and creative effort to portray the complexities and ultimate degeneration of post-independence Zimbabwe.

Sabatini’s is the more ambitious and conventional of the two. Written in a minimalist style similar to Petina Gappah’s, Sabatini’s debut novel focuses on an unlikely love story between a young coloured girl, Lindiwe Bishop, and her white next door neighbor, the erratic Ian McKenzie.

The novel begins in the early 1980s with Lindiwe still a school girl and spans to the late 90s. Zimbabwe passes through its many twists and turns in the shade of the evolving romance.

Sabatini is at her best depicting the details of Bulawayo and the vagaries of the Fifth Brigade in Matabeleland. The writer has a passion for the charm of Zimbabwe’s second city, an appreciation of each and every storefront and stop street. The images of central Bulawayo strike wonderful chords. Her portrayal of Lindiwe’s family, with the contradictions of long hidden secrets and the brutality of neglect, also resonates.  In particular, Lindiwe’s unearthing of the liberation war treachery of an uncle who postures as a heroic guerrilla in the post-1980 years, gives us a clear glimpse into the manufacture of wartime legends. As Lindiwe unearths her uncle’s past, the reader cannot help but think of the military records of the thousands of fraudulent war vets who have climbed on the land-and -payout bandwagon in the last decade.

While she has delivered a comfortable and engrossing read, Sabatini also occasionally stumbles. Though the relationship between Lindiwe and Ian seems credible in the early stages, after Bishop completes university and develops a distinct gender awareness, her ongoing attraction to a classic Rhodesian male who continues to use racial epithets becomes less believable .  Lindiwe seems all too eager to forgive at a time in her life where such forgiveness appears out of place. In an interview the author stated that the central question of the book was whether Lindiwe and Ian would “manage to keep this connection.”  They do, which may frustrate some readers, as it appears Lindiwe should have moved on. While Lindiwe wouldn’t be the first woman to stay in a relationship long past the sell by date, I wonder how the novel would have worked if the couple had broken up. Perhaps a more authentic reflection of the racial and political tensions of the times would have emerged.

Despite these shortcomings, with The Boy Next Door, Sabatini has established herself as a promising figure among Zimbabwean writers. Though she’s not yet in the league of Vera, Dangarembga or Chinodya, Irene Sabatini is  perfectly capable of tackling a broad canvas with fluid prose and considerable insight.  Her voice is more than welcome and her ear for dialog is superb.

By contrast Chielo Zona Eze is a Nigerian whose clear cut mission is to condemn Mugabe. In a personal communication with the reviewer, Eze labeled the Zimbabwean President as “the epitome of political dysfunction in Africa,… a symptom of wider phenomena” on the continent.  The author possesses a special antipathy for Mugabe’s attempts to “silence his critics and the voice of the people” by blaming all Zimbabwe’s problems on the West. Eze believes it is the duty of African writers to “expose such lies and deception.”

In keeping with his overtly political purpose, Eze doesn’t hold back. At first The Trial of Robert Mugabe’s premise appears a little absurd. Mugabe sits in heaven at the Final Judgment Day, his fate to be determined by a range of iconic African heroes: Zimbabwean writers Yvonne Vera and Dambudzo Marechera, Steve Biko and Chief Justice Olaudah Equiano, the 18^th century Nigerian writer and abolitionist.

Eze cites Ali Mazrui’s  The Trial of Christopher Okigbo as his structural inspiration but there are also resonances of Ngugi’s The Trial of Dedan Kemathi and the  transcripts of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa.  The author could have gotten into trouble with this trial setting, but he manages to make it work.

Drawing extensively on the powerful testimony by witnesses to the atrocities in Matabeleland,  Eze chronicles the Fifth Brigade’s military campaign with unforgiving frankness and extensive graphic detail.  At times, The Trial runs like a well-constructed history of Mugabe’s years in power, with the testimony serving as lively and authentic source material.

Eze’s strength lies in his international and Pan-African vision. By including Biko and Equiano among those who sit in judgment, Mugabe’s trial becomes not merely an event for Zimbabwe but one that places human rights violations under ZANU-PF into a continental and global context.

While there is much of interest in The Trial, at times the plot line does run a little thin. The conclusion is a little bit too foregone, yet for anyone who wants to get a glimpse of Mugabe’s underside, minus the self-serving diatribes of a Catherine Buckle or Eric Harrison, The Trial of Robert Mugabe is a valuable and easy read. The events of the legal proceedings flow smoothly and Eze ultimately presents an optimistic message: that justice in Africa is part of universal notions of justice and will ultimately triumph. Sadly, as Dobrota Pucherova pointed out in her review of the book, Eze’s trial may be the only one Mugabe ever faces. Perhaps that makes the work all the more worth reading.

The reviewer is an Affiliated Research Scholar at the University of Illinois (Champaign-Urbana) and the author of the 2009 novel We Are All Zimbabweans Now.

Guardian journalist Diane Taylor recently filed a report from Mwenga in South Kivu depicting the plight of Congolese women rape victims who are forced to work in conditions of slavery in gold and mineral mines. Earning less than a dollar a day, these women seek employment because “their fields are in forests occupied by rebels and growing food has become too dangerous”[1]. This latest account is one of many media stories to expose the vulnerable and inhumane position Congolese women find themselves in, in a country that has experienced decades of conflict, state failure, impunity and corruption.

Taylor’s account is exceptional because she chooses to investigate into the societal consequences of illegal mining trade in the east of Congo, rather than focusing solely on war. The women in Taylor’s report find themselves in an exploitative industry because they either fear becoming, or have already become, victims of violence. The reframing of gender based sexual violence (GBSV) in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) is vital if governments are to take the problem of rape seriously. Rape in the east of Congo is not just the bi-product of war or a weapon of war. Rape is an integral part of a destructive regional militarized economy.

According to the UN, the DRC is one of the most gender-inequitable regions in the world, ranking 131 out of 177 of those countries reviewed[2]. Although the DRC has among the most gender-aware policies and conventions in Sub-Saharan Africa, a gap exists between the laws to protect and promote women’s rights and the reality of women’s lives, which are subject to local customary law and local political power. In some parts of the east of Congo where borders with Uganda and Rwanda are porous, local political power has been destroyed and replaced by lawlessness and military power. Women’s rights are eroded further by a culture of impunity and the absence of a fair, effective and efficient judiciary service.

A report published in June 2011 by the American Journal of Health and commissioned by the United Nations stated that the DRC was “the worst place on earth to be a woman”. Statistical estimates determined that some 1,152 women are raped daily, amounting to 48 rapes an hour. The findings indicated that between 2006 and 2007, “approximately 3.07 to 3.37 million women reported experiencing intimate partner sexual violence”, suggesting that sexual violence was more widespread across the country than previously thought[3].

These shocking statistics demonstrate the scale of the problem, yet themselves should be treated with caution. Swedish academic Maria Eriksson Baaz criticises the report’s generalising tendencies, observing that it would not be possible to glean an accurate picture in a country as vast as the DRC[4]. Provinces in the east of Congo comprise Ituri, North Kivu, South Kivu, Maniema, Oriental and Katanga and each has separate socio-political histories and highly complex politics.

Co-founder of the UK-based campaign It Must Stop Victoria Dove Dimandja maintains that prior to the invasion of Uganda and Rwanda and the onset of the civil war in 1997, rape, gang rapes and extreme sexual violence was “something we never had in our country. It was happening here and there, and in the city”. Yet, with vast numbers of Congolese civilian men, local militias and regular Congolese army soldiers perpetrating GBSV, rape cannot be understood as a product of foreign intervention alone.

The international media also has a tendency to image Congolese and/or regional political problems in isolation to the wider international political economy within which strategic military/political actors – for example, Kabila, Kagame and Museveni – operate. Where media coverage reports that rape in the east of Congo is a weapon of war used by militias, the informal mining industry is imaged as a consequence of war, rather than the reason for continued instability.

Rape and militarized economies

How then, do we re-politicise the problem of systematic and opportunistic rape in the east of Congo so that international, regional and local political and economic factors are understood to coalesce? Framing rape as an integral part of a militarized economy, where arms and war go hand in hand with the profiting from illegal mining, may bring us one step closer. Within this destructive economy, where 98 percent of mines are said to have the involvement of militia[5], women and sex have become commodities to be seized, bought and bartered.

Rape, including the rape and mutilation of men and boys, has become a form of ethnic cleansing, used to terrorize local people, destroy communities and displace populations in areas where armed groups compete for mineral-rich land. Foreign military regimes, individual soldiers and militias from Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, Sudan, and Zimbabwe have all, over the years, imported militarized rape into the east of Congo.

Extending beyond this, there is a wider economy of violence where women are perceived as assets, valued for their productive and reproductive labour. Attacking communities to steal food, water, clothing, cash and farming equipment (even seeds) from women is another source of income. There have been instances where local men “join the military on rape raids”, in addition to exploiting conflict situations to “sexually assault women without fear of punishment”[6]. As is now well known, militia and soldiers often regard rape as ‘payment’ for their military work and a means to climb the military ranks – this is particularly the case for child soldiers.

There are also the survivalist strategies of women and girls who enter into prostitution, quietly play the part of the military ‘wife’ or ‘camp follower’, or exchange sex for food and other resources. The women in Taylor’s report, who have been driven into an exploitative mining industry fall into this category, and there have been reports of families sending girls as young as thirteen into mining towns to seek an income through prostitution.

Coltan and cassiterite: the new Red Rubber wars

The fact that societal breakdown in the east of Congo is as much a product of the global demand for cassiterite, tin ore and coltan to supply consumers with technologies such as mobile phones and laptops, as it is to do with state failure, may explain the lack of international political will to address the problem of GBSV.

Governments and international institutions have historically been guilty of keeping Congolese women at the margins of international politics, first perceiving rape as a bi-product of war, then understanding rape to be a weapon of war and now, since the official end of the Congo wars, defining GBSV within the context of development and the Millennium Goals.

In a letter of response from the Foreign & Commonwealth Office to Victoria Dove Dimandja and colleague José Musau Kalanda dated 10 January 2011, the UK government concedes that “the situation for women is not improving”. The letter states that the UK is “actively supporting Congolese women by assisting efforts to publicly challenge sexual and gender based violence and to increase the number, influence, and capacity of Congolese women in public life”.  The letter notes the UK government’s call to urgently “enhance [MONUSCO’s] efforts to protect and defend civilians”. The letter also states that “the primary responsibility for protection of civilians lies with the DRC authorities”[7]. This ignores the complexity of the regional militarized economy and isolates DRC from the rest of the world. The separation of DRC politics from international politics in turn enables governments such as the UK and the US to present themselves first and foremost as providers of humanitarian aid.

Campaigners Dimandja and Kalanda are frustrated with the UK government’s disinterest in identifying and holding to account strategic-level operators within the mining industry who by extension are perpetrators of human rights abuses, including GBSV. They contend that spending aid money promoting women’s rights amounts to “pouring money onto the symptoms without treating the cause”. They want the UK to lobby the UN and EU and put pressure on multinationals. “Let us come together to fight for a responsible government, securing the borders and legalising the mining industry,” said Dimandja, “then allow women to reorganise themselves”.

These women are encouraged to join parliamentary meetings because “it’s been seen as a positive thing for Congolese women to speak for themselves”, but often find they are not being listened to. Part of the problem, they say, is the refusal of potential influencers such as NGOs to seriously discuss the regional and international politics which are sustaining Congo’s terrible status quo.  Many of these NGOs, who receive UK government aid money to deliver DFID programmes in the absence of an effective Congolese government, prefer to remain a-political.

Oxfam maintains that it must “balance its work on the ground in very difficult and challenging environments with the political statements it makes” to ensure staff and the lives of the people they work with are protected[8]. Oxfam’s most recent campaigns have focused on the strong voices of Congolese women, and other women and men globally, who are campaigning for change in the DRC[9]. This reminds us that women are not just rape victims: those who seek employment in the mines or adopt survivalist sex strategies are choosing the best of the worst options available to them in the regional militarized economy.

DFID’s new DRC operational plan 2011-2015 recognises on paper the need to align the UK aid programme with wider UK government conflict and security policy goals for the region. This, together with a slow-growing momentum to regulate the mining industry is a step forward, but alone is not enough. Public interest must be roused if we are to see a future where consumers purchase fair trade technologies from corporations that can guarantee their products do not contain materials extracted from regions of Africa where extreme human rights abuses occur.

Georgina Holmes is a member of the Africa Research Group, Department of War Studies, King’s College London

South Sudan gained its independence on the 9th of July. A week earlier
President al-Bashir of Northern Sudan was in China meeting with senior
party figures. China has been Sudan’s most valued ally over the past 5
years as Beijing has shielded the North Sudanese leadership from
criticism over conflict in Darfur, and has been a close partner in
developing the oil industry.

Despite ongoing tension between the North and the South, China has managed to
maintain a relationship with both sides. Sudanese oil is vital to
China’s strategic interests. With South Sudan holding 75% of the known
resources in the former unified Sudan, Beijing has been keen to develop a
relationship. China took in 79% of South Sudan’s total oil exports last
year.

“Although China and the Republic of South Sudan are separated by thousands of
miles, the two peoples have a deep traditional friendship and common
wish to enhance friendly exchanges,” Hu Jintao told South Sudanese
President Salva Kiir in a telephone call.

Meanwhile North Sudanese Foreign Minister Ali Ahmed Karti accompanying al-Bashir
in China said, “We are now in need of Chinese support because the West
instead of supporting us is now doing what I can describe as a
challenge”. Beijing has managed to position itself as a key ally to both
markets at the expense of Western powers. While the efforts of the ICC
in prosecuting leaders who commit war crimes are undoubtedly noble, they
have had little clear positive on influencing al-Bashir a year later.

Despite the intention to indict war criminals irrespective of nationality, it
is unlikely that the ICC will investigate calls by Human RIghts Watch to
investigate torture under the most recent Bush regime. Nor is it likely
that the US would cooperate with charges if they were levelled.

In a region scarred by continuing conflict, the dual relationship China
holds with the North and South could be a powerful force for peace.
China’s interests on both sides of the border and its power in the
affairs of both countries mean it will lobby hard for peaceful relations
between President Kir and President al-Bashir. Having worked for a long
time to build oil security through these relationships China has a very
strong interest in preventing conflict.

In interviews with official Chinese media, al-Bashir combined reassurances
about his commitment to a peaceful secession of the south, with a
warning that the division could still go wrong.

While other Western powers largely ignored the fledgling government in Juba,
China has been active in constructing government buildings, and building
relationships. The Sudanese oil resource is so important to China that
Beijing has also been engaged in a long running battle to build and
operate the planned Lamu port and infrastructure corridor through Kenya
and Uganda.

While the country has only recently gained full independence, regional and
international powers have for a long while been planning for South
Sudan’s debut. Currently all of Sudan’s oil infrastructure runs north to
refineries in Port Sudan, but understandably the South is keen to
diversify its outlets. Kenya is only too willing to oblige.

The Lamu corridor has long been mooted in order to carry Sudanese crude to a
modern port on the East African coast. The competition to build this
port has largely been between Japan and China, as investors have brought
nearly $5bn to secure infrastructure in the region. This includes an
oil refinery, a sea port and a 1,400 kilometre oil pipeline that will
link Juba to Lamu. An accompanying train line has also been discussed.

The root of the South Sudanese succession is in the country’s isolation and
sidelining, brought about by the dominant national interest in
Khartoum. Opening up an alternative trade corridor to the South will
break Juba’s reliance on the north and allow it more control over the
receipts from its oil wealth. For China, a new port at Lamu will also
avoid funneling Chinese shipping through the Gulf of Aden, while for
Kenya it will open an easy and reliable new fuel supply, and new markets
for its manufacturing industries.

There has also been a great deal of investment in the 1,130 kilometre road
that links Nairobi to Juba to cut down journey times which currently
take up to 26 hours. Business Daily quotes the combined cost of the
projects at an estimated $10 billion (Sh750 billion) or 34 per cent of
Kenya’s Sh2.2 trillion gross domestic product (GDP).

The succession of South Sudan was inevitable considering the former Sudan’s
fractious political past. While Western attempts to effect improvements
in the Sudanese situation through the ICC are worthy, China’s carefully
built trade relationships may in reality prove more effective at
maintaining peace.

Selected Headlines:

• Africa can gain from pricier Chinese labour -The Namibian (NAM)

• Madagascar in the Chinese net -Pambazuka News (GBR, KEN)

• China shifts focus in Africa -Business Day (ZAF)

• UNBS to work with Chinese firms on quality -New Vision (UGA)

• China trumps Brazil in African showdown -Business Report (ZAF)

• Kimunya calls for calm in port privatisation plan -The Standard (KEN)

By Toby Green and Peter R. Thompson

Marie Gibert’s article published in African Arguments (“Guinea-Bissau: A Narco-Developmental State?”, 24^th May 2011 – read here) is a classic example of how to construct a misleading portrayal of a country on the basis of “objective” economic and social indicators. We would like to make it clear at the outset that we have never met the author, and indeed would like to encourage all researchers to enhance international understanding of the country, as Dr Gibert has tried to do. Our main concern is simply that an accurate portrayal of Guinea-Bissau reaches an informed audience.

Dr Gibert contends that the development indicators collated by the UN and other non-governmental agencies warns against accepting facile tags such as that Guinea-Bissau is a “narco-state”. She notes that these suggest that primary school enrolment is rising, that the gender balance of pupils enrolled is becoming more equitable, and that there are marked improvements in rates of literacy among young women and in healthcare. However, she has little to say about the “narco-state” epithet itself, beyond the fact that it should not mislead informed and interested observers about the true state of the country.

Unfortunately, however, Dr Gibert’s article is misleading at almost every level.

We will begin by analysing the question of the involvement of the political hierarchy with drug-trafficking. Many informed international observers, not least the United Nations and the White House, have suggested that facets of the political establishment at every level are complicit in narcotics trafficking. Another area of concern for the international community is the immunity from prosecution enjoyed by members of the country’s parliament, theoretically opening the door for the facilitation of illicit activity and abuse of power. To call Guinea-Bissau a “narco-state” is therefore merely a reflection of this reality. However, there are a few signs which give grounds for optimism: recently, a new deal was signed by the President, Malam Bacai Sanha, and the Prime Minister, Carlos Gomes Junior, as to how the politicians of the country will tackle the drugs trafficking issue. A new All-Party Parliamentary Group on Guinea-Bissau has been established in the United Kingdom parliament, strongly welcomed by the UN and the wider international community, and one of its foci will be the issue of the drugs problem as well as the related matter of security sector reform. This should not come as a surprise; the UK Home Office has estimated that half of all the cocaine entering British shores is being trafficked through West Africa.

Dr Gibert has little to say on these key questions, but the reality is that these are fast-changing issues and they cannot merely be swatted aside with the unsubstantiated view that those calling Guinea-Bissau a “narco-state” are just giving the country a misnomer. Important though the drugs question is, it is really of secondary importance to the core of Dr Gibert’s article, which is that these issues are a distraction from the key question of how the running of the state is affecting and benefitting the people of Guinea-Bissau. On her reading, the reality is far rosier than the general international perception of the country might suggest. What she calls “dynamic government action” has allowed the government to remain “effective” in its provision of basic social and educational services.

We would love to be able to concur with this view, but sadly we are unable to. Both of the authors of this article spend extended periods in the country and the reality is that the both the state and the economy of the country are in a state of dysfunction. The availability of micro-credit is so tenuous that many of the small retailers and stores in Bissau and small towns around the country are owned by foreigners, generally from Guinea-Conakry, Mauritania and Senegal. The criminal justice system is in a parlous state, with police unable to fuel their vehicles, the integrity of criminal trials endlessly disputed, and detainee rights within the military justice system a serious cause for concern. The subsistence agriculture sector is in collapse; rudimentary domestic livestock is often imported from neighbouring countries, while chickens are sold at local markets for three times the price of a corn-fed chicken in a British supermarket. The major cash crop – the cashew nut – is often bartered with foreign traders for rice, even though for centuries rice has been the staple crop of the people. Meanwhile, senior government officials often have no access to the Internet and some members of parliament are illiterate. Ministries struggle to pay their rent, and civil servants (including teachers) can often still go without payment for months on end. This inevitably makes it impossible for them to effectively monitor the provision of programmes and the delivery of education services, such as those lauded by Dr Gibert.

At the political level, meanwhile, the country is in a state of perpetual crisis. Division pervades the upper echelons of government, with senior figures often better able to talk to an opposition party than to a colleague in their own. This political paralysis has had a further knock-on effect on the morale of civil servants charged with delivering programmes, many of whom themselves struggle to feed their children on their unpaid wages whilst trying to roll out anti-poverty strategies devised by international organisations.

In short, the government of Guinea-Bissau is in a very real crisis. The state is paralysed, and the drugs industry has provided an outlet for a political class which increasingly sees little point in trying to engage with an international system that does not seem to want to engage with them. It is easy to write theoretically positive news about a much maligned and desperately poor country, but we both believe that Dr Gibert’s article could only have been written by someone who has not had the opportunity to visit the country in person. We hope that Dr Gibert will attempt to rectify this in the near future, so that she can observe the realities on the ground for herself.

Toby Green, a widely published historian, is in the Departments of History and Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American Studies at King’s College London. He is Director of Institutional Relations at the Amilcar Cabral Institute of Economic and Political Research.

Peter R. Thompson, a businessman and commentator on African economic and political affairs, is the founder and president of the Amilcar Cabral Institute, an affiliate of the University of Birmingham’s Centre for West African Studies and the Secretariat of the All-Party Parliamentary Group for Guinea-Bissau.

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By Mohamed A Omar

Somaliland has recently celebrated the 20^th anniversary of its declaration of independence. On May 18, 1991, Somaliland terminated its union with Somalia after a decade of struggle against oppression, exploitation and destruction by the Siad Barre regime.  We found the country in a  shambles, devastated not by a foreign enemy, but by the Somali army. Hargeisa, Somaliland’s capital, had been reduced to rubble, with most of its population living in refugee camps in Ethiopia.

A period of reconstruction and reorganisation began, accompanied by a sustained effort at reconciliation between the different groups of the community. After twenty years of hard work and sacrifice, we have achieved a peaceful state that proudly exhibits a functioning administration guided by democratic institutions which reflect the will of the people. This is a unique and precious achievement in the region.

The current government derives its mandate from free elections conducted in June 2010, the latest in a series of elections held since 1991. The previous administration, which had also been democratically elected, accepted the expression of the public will and handed over power peacefully. The current government is working hard to move the country forward along the path to economic and social development.

Our government is under the control of a bi-cameral parliament, which represents a wise combination of traditional and modern democratic elements. Our judicial system is being reinforced and streamlined, while we have a lively and critical media. In other words, Somaliland has become a well-organised and modernising state that compares favourably with many countries on the African continent.

It is with pride and gratitude that we look at the achievements we have secured by combining our efforts and by working relentlessly for our common goal. With little help from outside, we have managed to establish peace and stability, the impact of which is felt in the region as a whole. We contribute actively to the fight against extremism, terrorism and piracy. We are continuously engaged in the establishment of peaceful and constructive relations with all our neighbours, and stand ready to participate in positive regional collaborative efforts.

Somalia, which is still characterised by seemingly endless internal strife and deprivation, is a cause for concern to us. Based on ethnic and historical bonds, we feel deep empathy for its population that has been denied a peaceful life for decades, first by the Barre dictatorship and afterwards by ever quarrelling groups and individuals, and the absence of a government that could provide for at least the most basic needs.

Our goal is a stable and peaceful region. We believe strongly that peace and stability must be built from the bottom-up, taking into account the existing reality on the ground. A top-down approach, especially one imposed from outside Somalia, will remain ineffective because it cannot accurately reflect the experiences and nuances critical to any successful agreement. We are ready to share with our Somali brothers, on a basis of equality, our expertise about how peace, stability and democracy can be built from the bottom up, as happened in Somaliland. However, it must be understood that our independence is not negotiable. We will never forget what happened when we gave it up in 1960 by joining through a voluntary union with Somalia.  What was perceived initially as the fulfilment of the dream of a Greater Somalia turned out to be unachievable and a long-lasting nightmare for the region.

Somalilanders do not intend to repeat such a disastrous experience. We have made great sacrifices to regain our independence and we stand ready to defend it. This obviously includes our national borders. Like many other countries in Africa, we live within borders that were designed during the colonial era. We intend to maintain these. Claims on our territory, however motivated, are not acceptable and will not be tolerated. This is in conformity with the African Union’s Constitutive Act, one of whose principles is “respect of borders existing on achievement of independence”.

So far, for reasons that we find difficult to understand, the international community has not extended political recognition to Somaliland as an independent sovereign state. We are, however, confident that this will happen. Somaliland is here to stay as a stabilizing factor in the region as well as a facilitator of economic growth.

In the long run, non-recognition is costly for us in many respects. It makes life difficult for ordinary citizens, as well as business people and it limits our access to foreign aid and foreign direct investment. Somaliland requires both in order to achieve greater prosperity for its people, which in turn enhances peace and stability. That is why we ultimately wish to secure international recognition. The Somaliland people have as much right to prosperity as any other and this prosperity will only add to regional stability.

Fortunately, non-recognition has not prevented the steady improvement of relations with our neighbours and other international partners. We appreciate the efforts that many friendly governments have made to overcome this obstacle in normalising their relationships with Somaliland as far as possible under the present circumstances. We are particularly grateful for the humanitarian aid and development assistance our people have received and welcome the substantial increase of support to institution-building and economic development. In this context I also pay tribute to the work of the UN and its specialized agencies in helping Somaliland.

To conclude, the government of Somaliland, on behalf of its people, wishes to thank the international community for the support which it has provided, reiterates its wish for increased engagement and assistance to further strengthen its many successes over the past 20 years, and urges it to recognize Somaliland as an independent state. The legal case for recognition is sound; it is simply a matter of political will. The government also appeals to the international community, in particular the United Nations, not to undertake, support or condone any act that has the potential to lead to serious conflict in the future. This applies first and foremost to institutionalised claims over the territory of Somaliland. It would be tragic if, with the best of intentions, a situation were created, which could undermine peace and stability in the region instead of reinforcing it.

We urge the international community to see beyond the limitations of its current approach and re-double its engagement with Somaliland. The region as a whole will be the better for it.

Mohamed A Omar is Foreign Minister for The Republic of Somaliland

Hargeisa, June 2011

By Devon Knudsen

Japan became an aid donor in 1954, remarkably early on in its recovery from WWII, largely because its early ODA was given in the place of reparations to neighboring Asian countries it had occupied or attacked. At this time, Japan was very much still a developing country itself, so its early ODA was a clear case of South-South aid. By the 1980s however, Japan had established itself as an economic superpower, which changed the relationship between Japan and its ODA recipients. By 1991, Japan was Tanzania’s third most important trading partner while Tanzania was Japan’s 101st.  Tanzania was one of Japan’s largest aid recipients in Africa at the time, and the trade imbalance between the two countries was representative of Japan’s more dominant position in global trade.

Despite its economic strength, many still saw Japan as not fitting squarely into the “global north.” In 1989, the Minister of Foreign Affairs claimed that Japan, more than any other country, had the potential to mediate North-South conflicts because of its position somewhere between the two.  Since then, many publications of the Japanese International Cooperation Agency (JICA), the main organ for Japanese ODA distribution, have claimed that Japan’s aid is different from ODA given by other OECD donor countries because of this in-between status.

Japan’s status as a highly developed country means that it could more easily characterize its approach to aid as non-western than claim to fall somewhere in between the global “north” and “south”, and there are several areas in which Japanese aid clearly operates differently than other major western donors.  However, the claim that it follows that Japan also has some kind of unique ability to understand the needs of the developing world, is harder to prove. This has especially been questioned by some western development aid experts who advocate for greater levels of coordination between donors (and tend to prefer their own aid philosophies as models for emulation).

Why Japan sees itself as somewhere between “north” and “south”
Like many countries in the global south, Japan suffered periods of western exploitation; the forced opening of its markets by the US in the mid-1800s, British efforts in the inter-war period aimed at preventing Japan from becoming a trade rival in East and West Africa, and the darker aspects of US occupation of Japan in the post-WWII period are just a few examples.

On the other hand, Japan has also benefited in some areas where other southern countries have not, such as when Japanese businessmen in Apartheid South Africa were given “honorary white” status, which helped them set up profitable trade links with South Africa whereas their Indian and Chinese counterparts were subjected to discriminatory laws.  Both of these kinds of historical experiences influence Japan’s perception of its national identity and role in its foreign relations.

In regards to its role as a donor country to Africa, other factors also come into play. Unlike European donors, Japan has no history of colonialism on the continent, and unlike the US and UK, Japan resisted pressure to get involved in Cold War geopolitics especially outside of Asia.

How accurate a perception?
Japanese aid does seem to have many aspects in common with popular conceptions of south-south aid. For example, like China, Japan has historically not viewed aid as charity owed by rich countries. This was evident in Japan’s leading position among donor countries in terms of raw dollar amounts viewed in contrast to its much lower rank (17th place) in terms of quality-adjusted aid and charitable giving as a percentage of GDP, according to the Center for Global Development’s 2004 Index of Donor Performance.  It can also be seen in Japan’s hesitance to concentrate aid flows on the poorest countries as well as its preference to not abandon concessional loans targeting industrial development in favor of grant aid.

Secondly, both Japan and China have been accused of letting their economic interests influence the kind of assistance they give. Historically, this criticism has been directed at what was seen as an attempt to improve infrastructure to create opportunities for Japanese companies to more profitably invest in African countries, or as some put it, more easily extract African natural resources. More recently, because of competition with China over natural resources, particularly oil, Japan has come to pay more attention to Africa’s energy sector.

Finally, Japan, like many other southern donors, adopts a policy of relative non-interference in the domestic affairs of recipient countries. This was visible in how long it took Japan to join other donors in suspending aid to Kenya under Moi, as well as its continued message to recipient countries that it is the recipient country’s duty, not Japan’s, to decide what political course they should take.

Japanese ODA also reflects its desire to not repeat the mistakes it sees in the approaches of western donors.  For example, Japan has insisted that its African recipients provide a request for aid accompanied by a viability report in order to escape accusations that its aid policies are in any way guilty of neo-imperialism.

To further protect itself from such a label, Japan has invested heavily in trilateral aid, or aid projects which involve Japan as primary donor, a developing country as the secondary donor (usually of human or institutional resources instead of money), and a second developing country as the recipient, such as the recent trilateral Japan-Malaysia-Zambia trade promotion project. In these projects, Japan takes more of a back seat. Japan’s role essentially enables one developing country to offer its own technical assistance, and helps prevent the typical donor-recipient power imbalance.

The last major area of contention between Japanese and western donors is country-by-country, and sometimes factory-by-factory, flexibility versus promotion of successful models and focus on international standards.  Japan sees itself as being respectful of individual recipient countries’ specifications and preferences. This can be seen in several ways. For one, Japanese scholars argue that while Japan looks for recipient countries’ economic or industrial strengths and tries to further improve those areas, western donors look for areas of weakness in the recipient country compared to the norm, and tries to bring those areas up to standard. Secondly, advocates of Japanese ODA uniqueness point to examples of western donors investing in recipient countries’ abilities to meet international standards in situations where Japan opted instead to focus on improving individual company production.

Because of these areas where Japan diverges from the western donor community, Japan also resists calls to harmonize and pool aid.  Japanese ODA experts explain that Japan foresees few aspects of its approach to aid being adopted by western donors and believes aid recipients need to have a choice between donors to find types of aid that work for their country.

Recent Developments: Changes in both directions

Increasingly since its revision of its “ODA Charter” in 2003, Japanese ODA has moved away from some of its unique aid strategies to come more in line with the west. At the same time surprisingly, it has also taken a stronger stand in promoting some of its views on aid.  Much of this is a result of pressure on JICA to make aid seem more cost-effective in the eyes of an increasingly skeptical Japanese public.

Japan has shifted towards “Basic Human Needs” (BHN) aid such as food aid, emergency aid, education, and sanitation in response to public support for these types of aid.  In response to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan which were highly unpopular in Japan, Japanese ODA conferences highlighted aid as a means of achieving  “consolidation of peace,” and “human security”.

While trying to reach out to the Japanese public, JICA has also used the occasion of its restructuring in 2008 to rebrand itself to global audiences.  In the past two years, JICA has advertised itself and its activities in European publications and wooed western reporters in hopes of making more headlines. Compared to American and British aid agencies, these promotional activities are still quite modest, but represent a clear break from JICA’s preference for staying out of the spotlight in years past.

Whether or not these changes materialize into a substantially different approach to aid will depend on several factors, including how successful Japanese ODA is with its new goals, the extent of Japanese economic recovery, and perhaps whether Japan will gain new support from other middle or southern donors. For the immediate future however, Japan will likely continue to experiment with this new approach halfheartedly without abandoning the core distinguishing characteristics of its long-preferred aid philosophy.

Devon Knudsen teaches politics at the University of Nairobi in Kenya