Back in the early '70s I spent a week at a Sufi-inspired music camp in Marin County, California. It was a typical New Age celebration of the inner spirit, in a setting inspired by the musical and whirling dance traditions of Sufism, the so-called mystical branch of Islam. Back then, the militant form of Islam was hardly a ripple on the water.
More than 30 years have since passed, but it was all brought back this week by images in the New York Times showing Somali Sufis gathered around a campfire singing and chanting, much as we did in the Marin Woods back in the day, only at their feet lie a pile of Kalashnikovs which they use to fight the ultra-orthodox Shabab militias.
On top of everything else that has befallen the people of Somalia, we are witnessing a new conflict that pits groups of Sufi worshippers who believe that cultivation of the heart is the true path to God, against men who recently cut off the heads of two young women who were caught outside their homes selling tea. According to the Times, the Sufis had pretty much stayed on the sidelines during the 20 years of clan in-fighting, but now that the Shabab have taken to killing their imams and burning their mosques, they feel they have no choice but to retaliate.
Can it be long before there is a Sufi desk at the CIA looking for ways to militarize the whirling dervishes in the fight against Wahabiism and its militant offshoots? This is an internecine fight within Islam that stretches from the Caucasus to Southeast Asia, and while the Wahabi adherents seem to have a centralized support structure emanating from Saudi Arabia, the Sufic resistance seems to be a grassroots effort led by people determined to fight against the excesses of ultra-orthodox Islam.
So are the Sufis the solution to the puzzle on how to roll back militant Islam? Unlikely.
Given their history and the structure of their organizations, the most that outsiders can hope for is that they will fight until they are allowed to carry on with their mystical ways. They are hardly going to sweep across the Sunni and Shiite world to impose Islamic mystical practices on their co-religionists.
At best, Sufi music camps, like the one I attended in California, will be allowed to exist throughout the Muslim world, and people can experience for themselves that there are other paths to their God besides adherence to Sharia and the barrel of a gun.
(First published June 3rd in World Politics Review)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tsvangirai Hits the Road
Morgan Tsvangirai, Zimbabwe's embattled prime minister, will leave Harare soon for a three-week visit to the United States and Europe, where he hopes to convince Western governments to lift current sanctions against Zimbabwe, as well as to appeal for a new round of foreign investment. Though Western leaders should be polite and listen, they should never forget who the real boss is back home in Zimbabwe.
Tsvangirai's visit comes on the heels of a meeting between Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe and U.S. Rep. Donald Payne, chairman of the congressional committee on Africa and Global Health. Payne met with Mugabe in a search for a "new way forward" in U.S.-Zimbabwean relations, specifically the future of ZIDERA -- the 2001 Zimbabwe Democracy and Economic Recovery Act, which effectively bars multilateral donors such as the World Bank, the IMF or the African Development Bank from offering loans or credits to Mugabe's government until it institutes major economic and human rights reforms.
Despite Tsvangirai's announcement that the "acrimony is over" between him and Mugabe, he will still have a tough job convincing world leaders that Zimbabwe has made any progress at all in improving fiscal management, instituting a fair legal system or reforming the land redistribution scheme. The latter has not only been an essentially criminal undertaking, but has effectively wiped out commercial agriculture in a country that was once considered the "breadbasket" of Africa.
For Mugabe, there is obviously no one better to make the case for Zimbabwe than Tsvangirai. As the main leader of the opposition and a stalwart champion of the types of reforms the West has been clamoring for, Tsvangirai certainly has the credibility to speak for change. But the question that Western leaders should be asking themselves is whether he has the power?
As for Mugabe, welcoming an indicted war criminal, Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir, for a visit certainly is certainly consistent with his image as a loose cannon. But will it help Tsvangirai's chances for success?
The question is whether Mugabe wants Tsvangirai to succeed in the first place. Many seriously doubt it.
(First published June 8, 2009)
Tsvangirai's visit comes on the heels of a meeting between Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe and U.S. Rep. Donald Payne, chairman of the congressional committee on Africa and Global Health. Payne met with Mugabe in a search for a "new way forward" in U.S.-Zimbabwean relations, specifically the future of ZIDERA -- the 2001 Zimbabwe Democracy and Economic Recovery Act, which effectively bars multilateral donors such as the World Bank, the IMF or the African Development Bank from offering loans or credits to Mugabe's government until it institutes major economic and human rights reforms.
Despite Tsvangirai's announcement that the "acrimony is over" between him and Mugabe, he will still have a tough job convincing world leaders that Zimbabwe has made any progress at all in improving fiscal management, instituting a fair legal system or reforming the land redistribution scheme. The latter has not only been an essentially criminal undertaking, but has effectively wiped out commercial agriculture in a country that was once considered the "breadbasket" of Africa.
For Mugabe, there is obviously no one better to make the case for Zimbabwe than Tsvangirai. As the main leader of the opposition and a stalwart champion of the types of reforms the West has been clamoring for, Tsvangirai certainly has the credibility to speak for change. But the question that Western leaders should be asking themselves is whether he has the power?
As for Mugabe, welcoming an indicted war criminal, Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir, for a visit certainly is certainly consistent with his image as a loose cannon. But will it help Tsvangirai's chances for success?
The question is whether Mugabe wants Tsvangirai to succeed in the first place. Many seriously doubt it.
(First published June 8, 2009)
Kenya's Somalia Dilemma
As the world was riveted to the events in Iran last week, the beleaguered government of Somalia put out an S.O.S. for international military support in its deteriorating fight against al Shabab guerrillas and other radical opposition forces. Thus far, only Kenyan government officials have publicly responded with threats of military intervention.
But there remains the possibility that troops from Ethiopia, Djibouti, the Sudan and Uganda might be deployed in a combined warmaking/peacekeeping operation under the banner of the African Union and other international and regional organizations. More than 5,000 peacekeepers from Uganda and Burundi are currently deployed to protect government operations in and around Mogadishu, but in recent days they have been targeted by anti-government militants who refuse to recognize their neutral status.
The response from Kenya seems to suggest that the profile of the intervention would shift from peacekeeping to combat operations against al Shabab. In response, a spokesman for al Shabab said that any foreign troops "would be sent home in coffins."
Kenya has many reasons to try to deal with the chaos on its border. The primary one is al Shabab's close ties with al-Qaida, which put Kenya in the crosshairs of international jihadists. Both the U.S. embassy bombing in Nairobi in 1998 as well as the subsequent Paradise Hotel bombing in Kikambala were coordinated by al-Qaida-backed operatives coming across Kenya's long and virtually unpoliced border with Somalia. Kenya also has problems with its own homegrown militants, many of whom train and get both financing and weapons from Somali brethren.
Another reason for Kenyan concern is the rapid increase in recent weeks in the number of Internally Displaced Persons arriving at border towns along the Kenya-Ethiopia border. There are already 160,000 Somali refugees in the Dadaab camps on the Kenyan side of the border, most of whom have been living there since the early 1990s.
A further deterioration in the situation in Somalia will send tens of thousands more fleeing towards the borders, and only an enormous commitment by the international aid community will prevent another humanitarian debacle. In the meantime, aid agencies are bickering with the Kenyan government over land and construction issues, despite the fact that the number of refugees will likely double by year's end.
This is a developing situation that the Europeans and Americans should pay careful attention to. The recent "World War" in the Democratic Republic of Congo, in which troops from multiple foreign countries ran riot for several years in the name of stabilization, led to millions of civilian deaths. Somalia has far fewer riches than the Congo to plunder, but no matter what happens, civilians are likely to bear the brunt of the fighting. And any survey of Somali history suggests that nothing radicalizes the population like an invasion of foreigners.
Kenya's offer to help with the mess next door is laudable, but this is a job that Kenya can't do alone. Unfortunately, the "Black Hawk Down" debacle has not only soured U.S. strategists from lending a hand, it has also demonstrated that Somali fighters will always exceed expectations when it comes to violence and durability.
For Kenya and Somalia's other neighbors, that can only be a bad thing.
(First published in World Politics Review June 22, 2009)
But there remains the possibility that troops from Ethiopia, Djibouti, the Sudan and Uganda might be deployed in a combined warmaking/peacekeeping operation under the banner of the African Union and other international and regional organizations. More than 5,000 peacekeepers from Uganda and Burundi are currently deployed to protect government operations in and around Mogadishu, but in recent days they have been targeted by anti-government militants who refuse to recognize their neutral status.
The response from Kenya seems to suggest that the profile of the intervention would shift from peacekeeping to combat operations against al Shabab. In response, a spokesman for al Shabab said that any foreign troops "would be sent home in coffins."
Kenya has many reasons to try to deal with the chaos on its border. The primary one is al Shabab's close ties with al-Qaida, which put Kenya in the crosshairs of international jihadists. Both the U.S. embassy bombing in Nairobi in 1998 as well as the subsequent Paradise Hotel bombing in Kikambala were coordinated by al-Qaida-backed operatives coming across Kenya's long and virtually unpoliced border with Somalia. Kenya also has problems with its own homegrown militants, many of whom train and get both financing and weapons from Somali brethren.
Another reason for Kenyan concern is the rapid increase in recent weeks in the number of Internally Displaced Persons arriving at border towns along the Kenya-Ethiopia border. There are already 160,000 Somali refugees in the Dadaab camps on the Kenyan side of the border, most of whom have been living there since the early 1990s.
A further deterioration in the situation in Somalia will send tens of thousands more fleeing towards the borders, and only an enormous commitment by the international aid community will prevent another humanitarian debacle. In the meantime, aid agencies are bickering with the Kenyan government over land and construction issues, despite the fact that the number of refugees will likely double by year's end.
This is a developing situation that the Europeans and Americans should pay careful attention to. The recent "World War" in the Democratic Republic of Congo, in which troops from multiple foreign countries ran riot for several years in the name of stabilization, led to millions of civilian deaths. Somalia has far fewer riches than the Congo to plunder, but no matter what happens, civilians are likely to bear the brunt of the fighting. And any survey of Somali history suggests that nothing radicalizes the population like an invasion of foreigners.
Kenya's offer to help with the mess next door is laudable, but this is a job that Kenya can't do alone. Unfortunately, the "Black Hawk Down" debacle has not only soured U.S. strategists from lending a hand, it has also demonstrated that Somali fighters will always exceed expectations when it comes to violence and durability.
For Kenya and Somalia's other neighbors, that can only be a bad thing.
(First published in World Politics Review June 22, 2009)
Guinea-Bissau as Narco-State
On any other continent, the tit-for-tat killings of the president and head of the military in what is suspected to be a rivalry over revenues from drug trafficking would have captured the world's imagination. But when the country in question is Guinea-Bissau -- a tiny, obscure, former Portugese colony on the west coast of Africa -- those remarkable events barely raise an eyebrow.
Yesterday, the International Crisis Group called for international support and intervention to help the political elites in Guinea-Bissau stand up to the military and return to the path of democracy. Just prior to the March 2009 killings of President João Bernardo Vieira and Gen. Tagme Na Waie, the country conducted a successful round of parliamentary elections. But as the ICG points out, "the democratic process cannot cope with the rule of the gun."
Furthermore:
Since the return to multi-party rule in 1994, no president has successfully completed the constitutionally mandated five-year term. Gen. Tagme is the third chief of defense staff to be assassinated in nine years.
Given that Guinea-Bissau has no natural resources to speak of and makes most of its foreign exchange from exporting ground nuts, one would wonder what all the rivalry is about. In a word: cocaine.
Although the ICG's report glosses over the involvement of Guinea-Bissau in the international drug trade, other reports detail how Colombian traffickers have moved in en masse, transforming the landscape with a string of coastal McMansions, fleets of expensive cars, flashy nightclubs and of course, a lot of high-caliber firepower. (See Joe Kirschke's WPR series, The Coke Coast: Part I here, Part II here.)
The U.K.'s Guardian quoted a spokesman for the Drug Enforcement Agency as saying:
"A place like Guinea Bissau is a failed state anyway, so it's like moving into an empty house." There is no prison in Guinea-Bissau, he says. One rusty ship patrols a coastline of 350km, and an archipelago of 82 islands. The airspace is un-patrolled. The police have few cars, no petrol, no radios, handcuffs or phones.
"You walk in, buy the services you need from the government, army and people, and take over. The cocaine can then be stored safely and shipped to Europe, either by ship to Spain or Portugal, across land via Morocco on the old cannabis trail, or directly by air using 'mules.'" One single flight into Amsterdam in December 2006 was carrying 32 mules carrying cocaine from Guinea-Bissau.
Aside from cocaine traffickers, a place like Guinea-Bissau also attracts groups with ties to militants and terrorists. It is suspected that al-Qaida took advantage of the chaos in Liberia in the late 1990s to launder money and trade in diamonds, in order to raise cash for the 2001 attacks in the United States. Likewise there is evidence, as suggested in this remarkable report from Marco Vernaschi, that drug profits from West Africa are being used to support current Hezbollah and al-Qaida operations throughout the world.
As new Assistant Secretary of State for Africa Johnnie Carson casts about for interesting projects on the continent, he might consider looking into Guinea-Bissau. The problem is that in order for a country to ask for help, someone needs to be in charge. But for the traffickers, smugglers and money-launderers, the current situation of near-anarchy fits them to a tee.
(Published June 26th, 2009 in World Politics Review)
Yesterday, the International Crisis Group called for international support and intervention to help the political elites in Guinea-Bissau stand up to the military and return to the path of democracy. Just prior to the March 2009 killings of President João Bernardo Vieira and Gen. Tagme Na Waie, the country conducted a successful round of parliamentary elections. But as the ICG points out, "the democratic process cannot cope with the rule of the gun."
Furthermore:
Since the return to multi-party rule in 1994, no president has successfully completed the constitutionally mandated five-year term. Gen. Tagme is the third chief of defense staff to be assassinated in nine years.
Given that Guinea-Bissau has no natural resources to speak of and makes most of its foreign exchange from exporting ground nuts, one would wonder what all the rivalry is about. In a word: cocaine.
Although the ICG's report glosses over the involvement of Guinea-Bissau in the international drug trade, other reports detail how Colombian traffickers have moved in en masse, transforming the landscape with a string of coastal McMansions, fleets of expensive cars, flashy nightclubs and of course, a lot of high-caliber firepower. (See Joe Kirschke's WPR series, The Coke Coast: Part I here, Part II here.)
The U.K.'s Guardian quoted a spokesman for the Drug Enforcement Agency as saying:
"A place like Guinea Bissau is a failed state anyway, so it's like moving into an empty house." There is no prison in Guinea-Bissau, he says. One rusty ship patrols a coastline of 350km, and an archipelago of 82 islands. The airspace is un-patrolled. The police have few cars, no petrol, no radios, handcuffs or phones.
"You walk in, buy the services you need from the government, army and people, and take over. The cocaine can then be stored safely and shipped to Europe, either by ship to Spain or Portugal, across land via Morocco on the old cannabis trail, or directly by air using 'mules.'" One single flight into Amsterdam in December 2006 was carrying 32 mules carrying cocaine from Guinea-Bissau.
Aside from cocaine traffickers, a place like Guinea-Bissau also attracts groups with ties to militants and terrorists. It is suspected that al-Qaida took advantage of the chaos in Liberia in the late 1990s to launder money and trade in diamonds, in order to raise cash for the 2001 attacks in the United States. Likewise there is evidence, as suggested in this remarkable report from Marco Vernaschi, that drug profits from West Africa are being used to support current Hezbollah and al-Qaida operations throughout the world.
As new Assistant Secretary of State for Africa Johnnie Carson casts about for interesting projects on the continent, he might consider looking into Guinea-Bissau. The problem is that in order for a country to ask for help, someone needs to be in charge. But for the traffickers, smugglers and money-launderers, the current situation of near-anarchy fits them to a tee.
(Published June 26th, 2009 in World Politics Review)
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Military Intervention in Zimbabwe Would Be A Disaster
While the United States and most of the world celebrated the inauguration of Barack Obama, the people of Zimbabwe were once again being pushed to the brink. Talks between President Robert Mugabe and opposition leader Morgan Tsvangarai have broken down over several key issues, prompting Tsvangarai to say: "For us as the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), this is probably the darkest day of our lives, for the whole nation is waiting."
At the heart of the dispute is control of key ministries in the power-sharing arrangement being pushed by the South African Development Community (SADC) and its chief mediator, former South African President Thado Mbeki. It appears that the SADC agreement is basically the same one that was put on the table last September, essentially undermining attempts by the Tsvangarai faction to assume some control over key ministries that the Mugabe camp refuses to cede.
In other words, Mbeki is promoting a compromise plan without a compromise. Although the plan calls for Tsvangarai to assume the post of prime minister, it also allows for Mugabe to appoint two vice-presidents from his ZANU-PF party, and it fails to specify which ministries will go to the MDC and which to ZANU-PF. MDC has made it clear that it wants -- at least -- Home Affairs and Finance, but Mugabe refuses to budge. So the Zimbabwean danse macabre continues.
This outcome, which spells disaster for the people of Zimbabwe, might have been avoided if Mbeki and the other SADC leaders had taken a harder line with Mugabe from the beginning. Instead, the Zimbabwean president feels he has a mandate to make whatever shoddy offer he pleases to his opponents in a take-it-or-leave-it strategy that Tsvangarai has decided is just too paltry.
Headlines dealing with Zimbabwe dwell on the collapsing economy and health-care system, and calls from international activists for military intervention are growing. But there are still people working within the broken-down Zimbabwean judicial system to address some critical legal issues, particularly around land-reform.
The issue is whether the people in Mugabe's inner circle who benefited from land confiscations will be able to hold on to all of their ill-gotten gains, since the compromise agreement says explicitly that beneficiaries can only hold one farm at a time. Many white farmers view this as an opening to use the court system to get their land -- or at least portions of it -- back, and to resume pursuing their livelihoods on some of Africa's richest soil.
The simple fact that white farmers have yet to pack up and leave their native country suggests that, from their perspective, there is still hope.
International activists who have called for military intervention seem to forget the lessons of the Congo, where marauding interveners from multiple countries raped and plundered their way across the landscape, doing nothing but enriching themselves while further destabilizing a chaotic situation. To think that wouldn't happen in Zimbabwe is naïve. Even though the situation is dire, it is still salvageable through diplomacy if the right approach to dealing with Mugabe's ego and the ZANU-PF's power needs can be found.
The first step would be to replace Mbeki as chief negotiator, since his approach has proven to be bankrupt. The next step would be to entice Mugabe back to the negotiating the table by offering various types of investments and amnesties. The third step would be to give Tsvangarai and the MDC all the support they need to keep the pressure on Mugabe for the time it takes to peacefully remove him from power and return the country to democratic rule.
That could mean several more years of hard times for the citizens of Zimbabwe. But no matter how bad things get in the near future, nothing would be worse for the Zimbabwean people than to have a major military operation, directed by outsiders, roll through their lives.
World Policy Review/Jan 22, 2009
At the heart of the dispute is control of key ministries in the power-sharing arrangement being pushed by the South African Development Community (SADC) and its chief mediator, former South African President Thado Mbeki. It appears that the SADC agreement is basically the same one that was put on the table last September, essentially undermining attempts by the Tsvangarai faction to assume some control over key ministries that the Mugabe camp refuses to cede.
In other words, Mbeki is promoting a compromise plan without a compromise. Although the plan calls for Tsvangarai to assume the post of prime minister, it also allows for Mugabe to appoint two vice-presidents from his ZANU-PF party, and it fails to specify which ministries will go to the MDC and which to ZANU-PF. MDC has made it clear that it wants -- at least -- Home Affairs and Finance, but Mugabe refuses to budge. So the Zimbabwean danse macabre continues.
This outcome, which spells disaster for the people of Zimbabwe, might have been avoided if Mbeki and the other SADC leaders had taken a harder line with Mugabe from the beginning. Instead, the Zimbabwean president feels he has a mandate to make whatever shoddy offer he pleases to his opponents in a take-it-or-leave-it strategy that Tsvangarai has decided is just too paltry.
Headlines dealing with Zimbabwe dwell on the collapsing economy and health-care system, and calls from international activists for military intervention are growing. But there are still people working within the broken-down Zimbabwean judicial system to address some critical legal issues, particularly around land-reform.
The issue is whether the people in Mugabe's inner circle who benefited from land confiscations will be able to hold on to all of their ill-gotten gains, since the compromise agreement says explicitly that beneficiaries can only hold one farm at a time. Many white farmers view this as an opening to use the court system to get their land -- or at least portions of it -- back, and to resume pursuing their livelihoods on some of Africa's richest soil.
The simple fact that white farmers have yet to pack up and leave their native country suggests that, from their perspective, there is still hope.
International activists who have called for military intervention seem to forget the lessons of the Congo, where marauding interveners from multiple countries raped and plundered their way across the landscape, doing nothing but enriching themselves while further destabilizing a chaotic situation. To think that wouldn't happen in Zimbabwe is naïve. Even though the situation is dire, it is still salvageable through diplomacy if the right approach to dealing with Mugabe's ego and the ZANU-PF's power needs can be found.
The first step would be to replace Mbeki as chief negotiator, since his approach has proven to be bankrupt. The next step would be to entice Mugabe back to the negotiating the table by offering various types of investments and amnesties. The third step would be to give Tsvangarai and the MDC all the support they need to keep the pressure on Mugabe for the time it takes to peacefully remove him from power and return the country to democratic rule.
That could mean several more years of hard times for the citizens of Zimbabwe. But no matter how bad things get in the near future, nothing would be worse for the Zimbabwean people than to have a major military operation, directed by outsiders, roll through their lives.
World Policy Review/Jan 22, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Thursday, December 11, 2008
South African Scorpions Lose Their Sting
Two weeks ago, the parliament of South Africa -- essentially an arm of the ruling African National Congress party -- voted to abolish the Directorate of Special Operations and fold their jurisdiction into the work of the National Police. The move surprised no one but has angered many. Over the course of its nine year existence, the independent crime fighting unit of the National Prosecuting Authority, colorfully known as the Scorpions, has brought charges against current ANC head -- and presidential heir-apparent -- Jacob Zuma, as well as other high-profile ANC-supported figures such as former National Police Chief Jackie Selebi and Winnie Mandela.
Critics argue that many of the Scorpion's investigations were selective and (especially the Zuma probe) politically motivated. Defenders claim that the Scorpions were among the few institutions that kept South Africa from becoming a kleptocrat's paradise. But given that South Africa has some of the worst set of crime statistics in the world, it seems odd that the country's lawmakers would choose this moment to eradicate the Scorpions by blending them into the far less effective National Police.
In a recent poll conducted by TNS Research Surveys, almost 60 percent of South Africans contacted believe that the Scorpions should be retained. Various lawsuits have been launched on their behalf, but the die is cast. The Scorpions' former boss, Leonard McCarthy, has already been recruited by the anti-corruption unit of the World Bank (after being labeled a subversive by members of the ANC's executive committee), and all members of the unit have been asked to either interview for other jobs within the police and civil-service or to hand in their resignations. To no one's surprise, many members are simply walking away in disgust.
In a sense, the fall of the Scorpions also reflects the fall of Thabo Mbeki. In 1999, Mbeki was viewed as a cosmopolitan reformer. The creation of the Scorpions was one of the most potent symbols of his desire to change the direction of South Africa's drift towards criminal anarchy. His view of the unit changed, however, when former Police Chief Jackie Selebi, his friend and supporter, was investigated last year for alleged ties with organized crime figures.
Nevertheless, Mbeki launched an independent evaluation of whether the Scorpions should remain apart from the police. The Khampepe Report, named after the judge who headed the investigation, concluded that the Scorpions needed reform, not disbandment. It suggested that officers be selected more carefully and that the Scorpions be kept out of matters of state security and intelligence gathering.
The report was finished several years ago but only released to the public recently, too late to save the Scorpions and perhaps too late to allow the South African people to decide who they want as their watchdogs.
It seems increasingly as if the ANC's goal is to make itself indistinguishable from the government of South Africa, even though it is technically just another political party. By claiming the mantle of symbol of the "people," it has implied through its actions -- if not its legislative agenda as yet -- that any efforts to challenge its authority are unpatriotic, subversive and politically motivated. In the United States, arguments such as these would be met with derision. In South Africa, where the political landscape is completely dominated by one party, they are a hammer by which the ANC dominates its critics.
Published in World Politics Review, Nov. 5, 2008
Critics argue that many of the Scorpion's investigations were selective and (especially the Zuma probe) politically motivated. Defenders claim that the Scorpions were among the few institutions that kept South Africa from becoming a kleptocrat's paradise. But given that South Africa has some of the worst set of crime statistics in the world, it seems odd that the country's lawmakers would choose this moment to eradicate the Scorpions by blending them into the far less effective National Police.
In a recent poll conducted by TNS Research Surveys, almost 60 percent of South Africans contacted believe that the Scorpions should be retained. Various lawsuits have been launched on their behalf, but the die is cast. The Scorpions' former boss, Leonard McCarthy, has already been recruited by the anti-corruption unit of the World Bank (after being labeled a subversive by members of the ANC's executive committee), and all members of the unit have been asked to either interview for other jobs within the police and civil-service or to hand in their resignations. To no one's surprise, many members are simply walking away in disgust.
In a sense, the fall of the Scorpions also reflects the fall of Thabo Mbeki. In 1999, Mbeki was viewed as a cosmopolitan reformer. The creation of the Scorpions was one of the most potent symbols of his desire to change the direction of South Africa's drift towards criminal anarchy. His view of the unit changed, however, when former Police Chief Jackie Selebi, his friend and supporter, was investigated last year for alleged ties with organized crime figures.
Nevertheless, Mbeki launched an independent evaluation of whether the Scorpions should remain apart from the police. The Khampepe Report, named after the judge who headed the investigation, concluded that the Scorpions needed reform, not disbandment. It suggested that officers be selected more carefully and that the Scorpions be kept out of matters of state security and intelligence gathering.
The report was finished several years ago but only released to the public recently, too late to save the Scorpions and perhaps too late to allow the South African people to decide who they want as their watchdogs.
It seems increasingly as if the ANC's goal is to make itself indistinguishable from the government of South Africa, even though it is technically just another political party. By claiming the mantle of symbol of the "people," it has implied through its actions -- if not its legislative agenda as yet -- that any efforts to challenge its authority are unpatriotic, subversive and politically motivated. In the United States, arguments such as these would be met with derision. In South Africa, where the political landscape is completely dominated by one party, they are a hammer by which the ANC dominates its critics.
Published in World Politics Review, Nov. 5, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
