What happened to the predicted apocalypse of mercenary armies in the form of private military companies (PMCs) roaming the African continent? Indeed, the severe weakening of many African states and the privatisation of state authority suggested that PMCs like Executive Outcomes were a logical development of the outsourcing of sovereignty. However, companies such as Executive Outcomes seem to have been marginalised by market forces. While traditional private security companies will see increased demand for corporate protection due to the inability of the state to provide security, PMCs in the employ of the nation-state appear to have been replaced by a previously unrecognised form of privatisation, the quasi-privatisation of the armed forces of a number of African countries. Hence, it is necessary to move beyond the sterile privatisation of the security debate and to look at the commercialisation of Africa’s military engagements in destabilised neighbouring countries.

The deployment of troops from the defence forces of Angola, Uganda, Rwanda and Zimbabwe in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) marks an increasing utilisation of national militaries as tools for private financial gain by the political élite in these countries. Corporate-military business ventures in neighbouring countries have been created for the financial benefit of military officers and other cronies of state leaders, rendering the military apparatus a commercial asset. This new trend of privatising state security can be termed military commercialism whereby military mandates have been altered to suit the financial criteria of generals and their politician business partners. The use of the military to grease the wheels of patronage systems may adversely affect the military institution by blurring entry and exit strategies, altering civil-military relations, and debasing state structures. With so much hope placed upon ‘African responses to African crises’ through African peacekeeping, few analysts have fully recognised the precedent being set on the continent by national militaries engaging in significant entrepreneurial activity. Ironically, these developments are reminiscent of the corporate-mercenary transactions of groups like Sandline International that created so much public and academic concern over weak states succumbing to foreign commercial interests. While the commercialisation of military deployments is not a universal trend in Africa, this article will survey emerging instances of such activity and analyse their potential consequences.

A competitive edge for private military contracts in unstable developing countries was created through the advent of a corporate web of ownership or partnership that included a highly armed PMC and mining companies. Such a scenario was popularised by the corporate synergy between Sandline International, Executive Outcomes, Branch Energy/Branch Mining and a sovereign. Advantageous access to minerals in a weak state can be gained through militarising commercial objectives. The corporate entity provides the capital to exploit or develop raw resources, mostly minerals. The contract army, linked through shareholding or personal relationships to the corporate entity, simultaneously provides security to the sovereign and the mining site. And the sovereign provides legitimacy for these foreign actors and, through their presence, secures patronage payments from mineral resources while using the PMC physically to strengthen his position. This triangular system of profit-sharing transformed the international problem of securing destabilised, mineral-rich states into a viable business activity to the benefit of all parties.

At the turn of the century, it would appear as if PMCs have lost their competitive edge in Africa. Increasingly, a trend has developed in which the élite from neighbouring states utilise the military deployment of national armed forces to secure the profits of Africa’s mineral wealth. This trend first came to light in Liberia through the support given to incursions of the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) into Sierra Leone by warlord, now president, Charles Taylor. Between 1994 and 1998 Liberia exported an average of six million carats of diamonds to Belgium per annum despite an average annual mining capacity of between 100 000 to 150 000 carats. Sierra Leone, with some of the largest diamond fields in Africa, exported a mere 8 500 carats in 1998.¹ Clearly, the larger portion of diamonds from Sierra Leone was being exported through Liberia, to the alleged financial benefit of Charles Taylor and his cronies.

While militarised commercialism refers to the entrance of military functions (such as contract soldiers) into international commerce, military commercialism refers to the strong influence of entrepreneurial considerations as a key component of foreign military deployment. Military commercialism is effectively a third tier of privatised security whereby a ruler of a stronger African state deploys the national military to a neighbouring country, supporting either the sovereign or the rebels, in exchange for access to profits. While the provision of security is not undertaken by private actors, as was the case with PMCs, profits are accrued by state employees acting in their private capacity either in the form of business partnerships, or through direct involvement in entrepreneurial activity.

In much of sub-Saharan Africa, military involvement in a variety of unofficial and official domestic commercial activities has increased since independence. Such engagement ranges from bribery at roadblocks to military dictatorships in command of the formal economy. As will be illustrated, the increasing commercial orientation of military organisations in Africa, either through survival tactics, occupationalism or institutionalised commercialism, is not an isolated phenomenon, although the extent of external military commercialism through troop deployment is a radical new trend.

Mainstream Anglo-Saxon theory and practice regarding civilian-military relations dictate a clear divergence between the military institution, the political arena and the economy. However, the apparent near global trend towards military occupationalism — as opposed to the previous institutional orientation — provides a theoretical link to military commercialism in Africa. The traditional ethos of the military as ‘more than just a job’ has been partially replaced by a corporate outlook, forcing the military in countries such as the United States to market the extent to which military service was ideal training for later corporate employment.² Even some active duty US soldiers participate in benign moonlighting in private sector industries, such as moving companies, to supplement comparatively low wages.³ Despite the fact that moonlighting is not widespread, the increasingly occupationalist orientation within the armed forces has raised the tolerance of leadership towards a more corporatist disposition. While military occupationalism is not directly linked to military commercialism, it is one facet of the same theoretical trend since "an occupation is legitimated in terms of the marketplace."⁴

Unlike the Anglo-Saxon model, countries that draw upon a Hispanic civil-military culture envision a tighter link between the military and the national economy. Hispanic military traditions in Central and South America reinforce the entrance of the armed forces into significant domestic engagements. Historically, the conquistadors, besides being the saviours of the nation and loyal to the monarch, also played a legitimate and substantial role in commercial enterprise and the body politic. This historical link has been reinforced by a reduced national role and diminished budgetary allocations awarded to Latin American militaries after the Cold War. Since weak economies cannot afford unproductive sectors, militaries in the region have been forced to become ‘productive establishments’, a notion all too compatible with the officers.⁵ Thus, survival in an environment of financial downsizing has become equated with entrepreneurial acumen, often assisted by the government. In Honduras, for example, the Military Pension Institute (IPM) provided a vital link between military personnel and private enterprise with the IPM acquiring the Honduran Cement Company (INCEHSA) in 1991, with the latter henceforth being given a near monopoly over government building contracts.⁶ A similar Military Pension Institute was established in Guatemala to provide former soldiers with social security — the Institute was subsequently favoured by the state over other social service funds.⁷ A genuine large-scale raid on the private sector by military entrepreneurs occurred in Nicaragua where private businesses were either operated by retired officers or entirely owned by the military. A partial list of such businesses includes Associated Nicaraguan Contractors, Inc; Impact Warehouses; Loan Bank; Cereal and Vegetable Supermarket, Inc; Metal Products, Inc; FETESA Hardware Store; CARPINSA Forestry; and El Semillal Shrimp Company.⁸

A more extreme example of institutionalised military commerce is China’s People’s Liberation Army (PLA) that has become a commercial entity in its own right. Chinese armies have historically participated in subsistence commerce such as growing their own food, but "[o]nly in the early 1980s, after the government slashed defence spending and diverted funds to economic development, was subsistence transformed into big business."⁹ The PLA’s increased involvement in commercial enterprise may only be two decades old, but the army now "... runs a loose network of around 20,000 companies and is involved in practically every sector of the Chinese economy."¹⁰ The degree of institutionalised commercialism has dubbed the military apparatus ‘PLA Inc’ whereby the "People’s Liberation Army has become the ultimate brand name in China", contributing about three per cent of China’s gross domestic product.¹¹ Such commercial ventures initiated by the military allow the PLA to advance technologically, as well as sustain costs partially, with financial rewards also going to the officers. Profits from PLA commercial activity allow for the augmentation of the military apparatus and provide swank lifestyles for the generals, raising concerns of dependency on commercial ventures.¹² However, while the PLA is partially defined by state-sanctioned commerce, entrepreneurial engagement is not a core function and "national security considerations are of paramount importance."¹³

The Russian example of entrepreneurial activity among military personnel exhibits a strong divergence from the traditional Communist military ethos. Due to the enduring financial crisis in Moscow, Russian soldiers of all ranks are forced to engage in illegal activities, moonlighting or selling military hardware to supplement or replace state salaries. Such survival strategies indicate a move from the informal economy into that of organised crime and can take on a multitude of forms: soldiers with special forces backgrounds find employment even for a number of hours as ‘bodyguards’ for a ‘strong man’ or senior member of the mafia. Ranking officers have more substantial access to arsenals and international clients, putting them in suitable positions to participate in black market deals transferring technology. However, such activities are carried out by individuals or groups of individuals and do not reflect or concur with official policy, although politicians may be involved in some of the entrepreneurial schemes. Moonlighting, whether by low ranking officers, or more corporate illicit dealings by the senior ranking echelons, is partly a response to poor wages in a country where inflation matches high degrees of political uncertainty. Such extracurricular activities may be endemic to the military structure, but they do not define, at least in theory, the official function of the military as an institution within the Russian state.

Like the Russian military, most African armies exist in fractured economies where state salaries are low and sometimes heavily in arrears. African soldiers are often forced to moonlight on the side to ensure income. Such moonlighting can be the selling of military equipment, or the extortion of civilians at roadblocks as has become common practice in many countries. Furthermore, the entrepreneurial nature of African troops displays characteristics of individual career orientation in which commercial activity becomes an attempt to obtain social security. Conducting business on the side or moonlighting is often encouraged as a means of providing for retirement income which the government cannot do. Thus, extracurricular activities become the cornerstone of officership, exemplified by KENBATT (Kenya Battalion) troops involved in the United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR) in Bosnia selling diesel to augment low wages. It must be noted that moonlighting by soldiers from developing countries often takes on a more sinister form in fractured economies where groups of soldiers resemble armed thugs taking from civilians what they can.

Secondary economic functions can also be authorised and institutionalised by the government in order to make the military a more productive sector of the state bureaucracy. Egypt has a centralised, state-run economy within which the military plays a significant role. In fact, it is the business-army synergy that actually makes Africa’s largest military apparatus function by effectively subsidising the defence budget. Another example is the Tanzanian army that created a ‘division of production’ within the military structure. Tanzania followed the socialist tradition according to which the military is not a separate entity from the body politic. Thus, military duties in former President Nyerere’s socialist state enhanced the incorporation of the civilian population under government control through activities as diverse as producing armaments and working in state sponsored agrarian schemes with peasants. However, commercial engagement by the armed forces in a socialist state such as Tanzania was primarily motivated by a lack of resources for the military structure and government propaganda identifying military involvement in the domestic economy with a greater ‘good’.

Since independence, Africa’s military coups have institutionalised forays by the armed forces into the domestic economy. Coups allow military commanders to run both the body politic and economy, hence commercialising the interests of an already politicised officer corps. As a result, the legacy of interest in the domestic economy creates a precedent for further intervention in the body politic that acts as the platform for financial gain in Africa. Successive military regimes in Nigeria created a commercially inclined military ethos, leading to further intervention in the state administration.

To control the military and prevent coups, Africa’s leaders have often found it necessary to buy off the officer corps by bringing it into the patrimonial network. In Zimbabwe, efforts to control the officer corps through patronage appear to have raised the commercial aspirations of the military élite. After coming to power in 1980, President Robert Mugabe saw the danger in demobilising the bloated Zimbabwe National Defence Force too quickly, finding it expedient to utilise a different system whereby "... military and intelligence top brass [have been] closely integrated into ZANU-PF’s political structure and are privy to decision-making at the highest level: this is quite apart from their large salary packages and entrees into business through state owned companies."¹⁴ However, such a system of indirect control through incorporation is a dangerous balancing act with potentially extreme consequences for the existing regime. In all cases, the partial entrance of the military into commerce alters the military’s corporate identity. This is a significant factor in determining the extent of future commercial inclination.

During the 1970s and 1980s, top ranking South African officers and private businesspersons were involved in exporting Angolan ivory, diamonds and hardwoods as part of their support to UNITA and through military deployment in Southern Angola. The alleged rationale for such commercial activity was to bankroll UNITA’s logistic support and international propaganda. Nevertheless, it is quite possible that these deals were also used for personal financial gain by the South Africans involved.

Nigerian troops show significant tendencies towards moonlighting in domestic business activities, which are then magnified during external operations such as the deployment of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) in Liberia and Sierra Leone. Nigeria wanted to increase its regional hegemony, restore its image in the West, and reinforce a policy to counter junior officer coups in order to subdue similar domestic inclinations.¹⁵ Over time, Nigerian soldiers have come to exemplify the West African entrepreneurial spirit, exhibiting a lack of separation between career soldiers and entrepreneurial tendencies at home, through numerous coups and the deep involvement of military leaders in the Nigerian economy, as well as during external deployment. In this manner, an institutionalised entrepreneurial predisposition, reinforced among junior officers through poor command and control, led to a significant degree of moonlighting in both Liberia and Sierra Leone. Involvement in "... hit-and-run alluvial mining ventures in captured areas",¹⁶ looting, running taxi services, and the like, appear to have developed in an incremental process of commercial engagement that first existed at lower command levels. Junior officers became engaged in entrepreneurial schemes to bolster salaries with and without the authorisation of their superiors. While it is likely that senior officers in Nigeria benefited from ECOMOG deployment, successive Nigerian military governments were still capable of meeting patronage payments through revenue from the domestic oil industry. In recent years, however, Nigeria’s military deployments in Liberia and Sierra Leone exhibit an increasing tendency towards military commercialism, as command and control systems became distended and clear mandates confused.

Similar to the Nigerians, the armed forces of Angola (Forças Armadas Angolanas or FAA), mark the transition between predatory behaviour within the state to an external or regional expression of military commercialism. Since the political élite had secured profits from oil exports, the military élite looked for their own self-promoting commercial activities through the ‘privatised’ protection of economic assets and direct participation in diamond mining. As a result, Angolan generals either established their own private security companies, or became shareholders in domestic subsidiaries of international private security firms. The FAA started moving into the diamond mining areas in the mid-1990s with the aim of securing diamond production for the military élite. This trend saw the emergence of companies created to mine diamonds — such as Lumanhe, owned by retired FAA generals — as well as individual participation in illicit diamond mining by high ranking officers and their subordinates. Indeed, FAA forces deployed against UNITA in Lunda Norte — the province with the heaviest concentration of diamonds — often appear to opt for personal enrichment as opposed to combat, sometimes mining for diamonds on one side of a river with UNITA mining the other. Ironically, the FAA’s behaviour appears to have become quite similar to that of UNITA where both armies are looking for lucrative resource extraction opportunities.

This ‘domestic’ precedent found new external expression during the FAA’s recent deployments into the DRC to assist Laurent Kabila.¹⁷ While the Angolan government had strategic reasons for assisting Kabila against Rwanda and Uganda — UNITA’s ‘allies’ — commercial opportunism by officers came to be a substantial ingredient of the deployment. An official blind eye appears to have been turned to organised looting in the DRC, since soldiers were unwilling to fight without a financial incentive. The extent of stolen Congolese cars showing up in Luanda provides evidence of this phenomenon. Profits to Luanda’s political élite were also secured through Angola’s national petrol company, Sonangol, which was awarded exploration concessions, as well as marketing deals in the DRC.

Nigeria and Angola represent domestic commercial activity evolving into foreign deployment. Nigeria’s many military coups led to commercial inclination by the armed forces, which, coupled with poor command and control during ECOMOG deployments, resulted in increasing entrepreneurial tendencies among junior officers in Liberia and Sierra Leone. Angola’s military élite became involved in the domestic private security and diamond industries, a commercial participation/ plundering that was mimicked in the DRC deployment. However, as the cases of Rwanda, Uganda and Zimbabwe will show, a new type of military commercialism is emerging through the DRC deployments. In these three countries, it would appear as if commercial ventures have become a core consideration in strategic planning. While global examples of domestic and external commercialism display entrepreneurial activity as an additional function of the military, military commercialism through deployment to the DRC is closely associated with the central role of patrimonialism in African society. Thus, while Nigeria as a whole may not have profited from its ECOMOG ventures and the FAA entered the DRC to combat UNITA, different motivations guide the Rwandans, Ugandans and Zimbabweans. Admittedly, all three have legitimate security concerns, although those of Zimbabwe appear less convincing. However, significant motivation also comes from the political/military élite seeking to retain power through clientelism, making military commercialism one of many financial supports for the domestic regime.

The decline in foreign aid to corrupt and undemocratic governments, as well as concurrent demands for economic and political liberalisation have heavily strained African patrimonialism. This has accelerated the implosion of weak states as leaders could no longer service their patronage networks, giving rise to competing warlords and state collapse. Stronger states are subject to similar strains with quasi-feudal systems of patronage becoming distended and domestic security diminishing, enhanced by an influx of refugees and small arms from neighbouring failed states. As a result, African leaders are forced to seek patronage finance through increasingly destructive methods. In Zimbabwe, for example, the proposed land redistribution in 1998 appears to be intended "... to provide the wherewithal to expand the government’s patronage network and secure compliance of wavering political allies",¹⁸ rather than to serve the needs of the landless. At the same time, the proposed land reform was a sure way to lose credibility even further with international lending institutions, foreign investors and governments, forcing President Mugabe to seek other sources of revenue. If domestic resources do not exist or cannot be illicitly mobilised as a result of the scrutiny of the international community, crossborder predatory behaviour, hidden behind legitimate political and military concerns, provides an alternative resource.

In this manner, a failed state can offer substantial opportunities to a neighbouring sovereign. Extraction of the resources of a country such as the DRC can provide rich pickings for others who, through the deployment of their armed forces, can control and exploit mining ventures that they would otherwise not be able to access. Not only does the destabilised country serve as a source for personalised financial gain, but it also serves as a simulated off-shore tax haven. The skeletal state structure in Kinshasa can issue export permits, country of destination documents, bank accounts and tax records free from inspection. The stronger country’s élite can therefore use the façade of the neighbouring failed state’s structure to legitimise illicit transactions. Hence, military commercialism brings external resources under the control of the deploying country’s patrimonial network, allowing for redistribution to protect the domestic regime. In this way, the military is used in part as a formidable tool to maintain a patrimonial pyramid. This trend is particularly evident with the use of the Zimbabwe Defence Force (ZDF) by President Mugabe and the Ugandan People’s Defence Force (UPDF) by President Museveni. In both, soldiers secure profits to the patrimonial state, hence replicating corporate employees and comprising an ‘industrial base’ for the underdeveloped state.

Within the élite, family and kinship ties often serve as conduits and means for running patronage networks, as in the case of Isabelle, the daughter of Angolan President João dos Santos, who runs various diamond buying operations in collusion with FAA generals. In Uganda, a similar key figure is Salim Saleh, President Museveni’s brother and military advisor. Saleh, for example, was involved in gold deals that were exposed after a plane crash in the Rwenzori Mountains in 1998. Among the dead were Lieutenant-Colonel Jet Mwebaze, an "architect of military strategy in the Congo", as well as several gold traders employed by the Israeli firm, Efforte Corporation, of which Saleh was a shareholder.¹⁹ Saleh’s business dealings with Mwebaze also connected him to Uganda’s force commander in the DRC, Brigadier Kazini, Jet Mwebaze’s brother and the cousin of Museveni’s wife.²⁰ Salim Saleh, with his business and military connections running through the presidency and UPDF, exemplifies the crosscutting personal associations that often drive military commercialism.

Those who provide security in the Congo can also profit from introducing foreigners with capital to rebel groups or the state government. While the involvement of the Executive Outcomes corporate network in Sierra Leone displayed foreigners dealing directly with a weak government, facilitators from Zimbabwe can act as Kinshasa’s international agents due to ZDF deployment. An example of this was the securing of a lucrative rehabilitation and management contract by Ridgepoint International with Gecamines, the DRC’s copper and cobalt parastatal. The Virgin Islands-based company is only one of many, often secretive, businesses run by the Zimbabwean-born entrepreneur, Billy Rautenbach. The contract was highly unusual due to the fact that it transferred state assets to Ridgepoint without compensation for Gecamines, including the profitable Groupe Central production. The deal came only one day after Kabila met with Mugabe and "... was meant to set up financing schemes through which Zimbabwe could invest in Congo’s mining sector."²¹ Indeed, an influential Zimbabwean facilitator is linked to the venture. Emmerson Mnangagwa, who occupies the dual positions of Justice Minister and treasurer of ZANU-PF — the organisational structure of Zimbabwe’s ruling party — allegedly attended the final meeting between Kabila and Rautenbach to decide the fate of the lucrative Ridgepoint contract.²² Furthermore, Mnangagwa maintains his central position, accruing profits to Mugabe’s patronage structure as, according to Africa Confidential, it is "... Mnangagwa’s sponsorship that keeps Rautenbach operating in the Congo."²³ Mnangagwa therefore allegedly provides the link between the DRC’s massive mineral reserves and Zimbabwe’s ruling élite, especially through his position as ZANU-PF’s treasurer. Mnangagwa was also a past chairperson of the Zimbabwean Joint High Command, minister of State Security and chief of the Central Intelligence Organisation.

In exchange for providing security to the Kabila regime, a suitable business environment has been established for private uses. According to Ross Herbert, "Zimbabwean generals, politicians and the ruling ZANU-PF party have invested an estimated $47 million in timber, mining and retail deals."²⁴ General Vitalis Zvinavashe, commander of the ZDF, has allegedly accrued significant financial gains from military deployment in the DRC. Of the nearly US $50 million USD Zimbabwe Defence Industries contract to supply Kabila’s army and the ZDF, a major private beneficiary was Zvinavashe’s trucking company, Zvinavashe Transport, subcontracted through a subsidiary, Swift Investments.²⁵ Apparently, benefits also accrued to the general’s family with his brother, Augustine, having been awarded a Zim $10 million deal for exporting goods to the DRC.²⁶ The military élite thus find themselves in beneficial commercial positions through the deployment of their subordinates, enabling participation in a diverse range of entrepreneurial ventures. Even the Zimbabwean SPCA is investigating the alleged smuggling of parrots from the DRC by ZDF officers.²⁷

As has been evident in the Nigerian deployment to both Liberia and Sierra Leone, the armed forces of a country such as Zimbabwe subsidise the cost of their deployment in the DRC through entrepreneurial activity. Strategic motivations become indistinguishable from self-promoting commercial enterprise. For example, the Zimbabwean company Osleg was established at the end of 1998 to purchase diamonds and gold from artisinal producers in the DRC, in partnership with Comiex, a company owned by Kabila’s military chiefs. Osleg’s corporate mandate was to trade gemstones to the value of approximately US $5 million per month in order to make ZDF deployment self-sustaining and ease the burden on the Zimbabwean economy. For the Zimbabwean government, in the words of Defence minister, Moven Mohachi, "[w]e saw this as a noble option. Instead of our army in Congo burdening the treasury for more resources, which are not available, it embarks on viable projects for the sake of generating the necessary revenue."²⁸ The agreement synthesises military objectives and commercial criteria. Indeed, differentiating between Zimbabwean military strategy and business interests becomes difficult when considering Osleg’s ownership: General Zvinavashe and Job Whabira, permanent Secretary in the Defence Ministry, as well as the chiefs of two mineral parastatals. Should Osleg’s transactions be completely legitimate, the very existence of the company — using active service ZDF officers to conduct its business — marks a dangerous entrance of commercial criteria into troop deployment. A private company established to bankroll military engagement, encourages an alteration of military ethos to simulate corporate enterprise. Presumably, the harder a military fights, the faster it must buy or mine diamonds to cover rising costs. The term ‘mission creep’ therefore expands in meaning to identify a situation where commercial concerns dictate the actions of the state military apparatus, making financial gain a military function of the entire chain of command.

While Uganda and Rwanda have not declared an official policy of generating revenue from military deployment, substantial evidence suggests that senior officers from both countries are involved in commercial activity in the DRC. The Ugandan Revenue Authority "... denounced top military officers for smuggling Congolese goods", citing the existence of "... 121 freight companies, some of them connected to the Army, which had been mysteriously licensed to operate unscheduled flights between Uganda and Congo."²⁹ Rwanda’s commercial opportunism is even more carefully hidden, with Tristar — "a consortium contributing to Rwanda’s war effort"³⁰ — shrouded in secrecy. However, an unnamed official at Kanobe airport alleges that as many as ten flights arrive daily in Kigali from the Congo with most of the goods sent directly to Europe.³¹ Such entrepreneurial activity also threatens the cohesion of the rebel alliance as competing commercial interests take precedence over common strategic objectives. The ascendancy of mercantile motivation reached a peak during the four days of fighting between UPDF and RPA (Rwandan Patriotic Army) troops in Kisangani in August 1999, that, put simply, "... involve[d] money and egos."³² Both armies made competing claims to the Rally for Congolese Democracy (RCD) — the main rebel faction that, after splitting, had Wamba dia Wamba aligned to the Ugandan camp, proclaiming his leadership of the movement in Kisangani, while Emile Ilunga remained with the bulk of the RCD with the Rwandans in Goma. It was alleged by some that the brief fighting was more a jockeying for position and "... stemmed mainly from competition over access to Congo’s valuable natural resources."³³

Countries such as Uganda and Rwanda also secure financial rewards from the DRC occupation through less active methods. Rather than engaging in risky business ventures, they simply demand the payment of tribute or protection fees by private businesspersons operating in the ‘war zone’. For those with guns, but without expertise, extorting protection fees can be the most lucrative method for securing financial rewards from a resource-rich territory. For example, during late 1999, RPA and UPDF soldiers were reportedly protecting Kisangani’s diamond dealers for substantial payment.³⁴ It is possible that both armies see the benefits in maintaining a laissez-faire policy towards established diamond dealers as long as protection money is paid. Of the approximately 35 diamond dealers in Kisangani, it is alleged that all pay protection fees to Ugandan colonels.³⁵ Although a news agency has alleged that "Ugandans want a monopoly on the diamond trade and are ordering foreigners out",³⁶ such a move could instead be aimed at diminishing competition for those diamantaires friendly to the Museveni regime. Closing established operations would not be beneficial, since the financial arrangements would cease; and the diamond business is such that failure is practically guaranteed for those without adequate knowledge of diamonds, substantial capital and a pool of contacts. Indeed, both Uganda and Rwanda now export diamonds, although neither country has any known diamond mines. However, both countries appear less directly engaged in mining, choosing rather to bring in their own foreign friends into the DRC through Kampala and Kigali.

Control over valuable resources in a ‘war zone’ can be solidified further by armed occupants who grant contracts or concessions to private businesses. An occupying army supporting a rebel faction can even utilise a puppet regime with claims to a specific territory in order to issue permits and exact payments. In this manner, Brigadier James Kazini, former commander of UPDF forces in the DRC, reportedly "... use[d] official UPDF letter heads to give instructions to facilitate private businessmen in Kisingani [sic] to trade, but after paying taxes to the rebel leader Jean Pierre Bemba and UPDF in form of security funding."³⁷ Thus, an occupying army, whether supporting a ‘recognised’ sovereign, or a rebel faction with claims to sovereignty, has two options for ensuring economic returns from minerals: engaging in resource exploitation itself, or selling concessions to and demanding tribute from those companies that are engaged in resource exploitation.

Differences between the involvement of Zimbabwe and Uganda in military commercialism are perhaps rooted in Zimbabwe’s previous deployment. Zimbabwe’s involvement in Mozambique from 1985 to 1993 was mainly aimed at protecting "... trade routes to the sea" from RENAMO.³⁸ The deployment represented a large drain on the Zimbabwean economy, possibly depleting seventy per cent of the defence budget during these eight years, but the ZDF did not participate in major extracurricular commercial activity.³⁹ Because substantial commercial ventures were not pursued, when the ZDF pulled out it was South African companies that moved into the pacified areas. This missed opportunity in Mozambique perhaps helps to explain the initiation of formal and structured commercial ventures such as Osleg or supplying parastatals such as the Agriculture and Rural Development Authority, which was allocated several hundred thousand hectares in the DRC for farming,⁴⁰ and the Mhangura Copper Mines which used copper arriving from the DRC to resume profitable smeltering.⁴¹

The formal nature of such business transactions is facilitated by the fact that Zimbabwe is assisting a recognised government while Uganda and Rwanda are supporting rebels that have no legitimate claims to the DRC’s territory. Uganda is heavily involved in exploiting the DRC’s minerals, but has not formalised these ventures. Uganda has no internationally legitimate claims to the DRC’s resources as it has only made agreements with rebel groups. Thus, Uganda’s resource extraction cannot be as capital intensive and must be hidden from the public to an even greater degree due to criticism of colonisation. However, the secretive nature of Uganda’s dealings is exemplified by long-standing gold interests. Despite the fact that many of Uganda’s gold mining operations were still in the prospecting phase during Kabila’s drive for power, "[t]he Central bank reports that by September 1997, Uganda had exported gold valued at $105m, compared with only $60m in 1996 and only $23m in 1995. Analysts are asking how Uganda’s inefficient gold industry could be expanding so fast."⁴²

It is important to note that military commercialism increases the inclination of field commanders and their subordinates towards warlordism. Many African militaries already show a propensity towards warlordism, accosting and terrorising civilians rather than combating the enemy. This trend is reinforced through military commercialism as control over prized resources becomes a legitimate military objective. In many cases, field commanders deployed in the DRC take on the role of warlords, loosely defined as "... the leader of an armed band, usually numbering up to several thousand fighters, who can hold territory locally and at the same time act financially and politically in the international system without interference from the nominal state in which he operates."⁴³ These military commanders rule over commercial sites like Mbuji-Mayi and Kisangani (which are responsible for several hundred million dollars in diamond exports per year), and can extract profits through illicit enterprises in conjunction with quasi-legitimate governments or rebel factions.

The actions of senior officers, such as Zimbabwe’s Zvinavashe, set an example for junior officers and other ranks. Lower ranking officers are also influenced through direct involvement in private enterprises such as Osleg. For many Zimbabwean soldiers, the DRC operation is lucrative due to the mission service allowance of US $14 per day, making transborder service economically beneficial even to less intrepid soldiers. Low ranking soldiers who may not have the capital to initiate entrepreneurial schemes, are involved in larger operations run by officers who share the profits. The military chain of command readily provides a ranking officer with faithful employees who then receive a portion of the booty, especially when the job is labour-intensive. Over time, commercial activities can develop into self-reinforcing military behaviour with entrepreneurial opportunism an established military objective. Traditional military strategy diminishes in importance as favourable access to financial rewards becomes a key function of deployment. Inevitably, commercially oriented soldiers eventually refrain from high risk military activity as witnessed in the DRC conflict. This trend is further reinforced by other factors endemic to African militaries, namely poor remuneration and a lack of professionalism.

The most dangerous consequences of external military commercialism arguably emerge when the war is over and soldiers return home. Governments must continue to provide lucrative external deployments or otherwise pay off the military so that post-deployment income is comparable to what it was during foreign engagement. One response has been to incorporate the military further into the state, allowing the military to become a corporate competitor in the formal economy. Over time, this increases the power and economic appetite of the armed forces and may compound political opportunism. A second response has been for a country such as Nigeria under military rule to embark continually upon external deployment to states in order to keep the military from threatening the domestic dictatorship. This exacerbates the destructive nature of predatory foreign policy and could increase the occurrence of military commercialism through military deployment. Either response to military dissatisfaction over low wages and confinement to barracks, draws the domestic élite into a self-destructive spiral.

Despite the arguments and evidence advanced thus far, DRC troop deployment cannot be simply reduced to economics. Indeed, many domestic, regional and international factors are at play. However, the level of commercial exploitation by invading and occupying troops highlights an emerging trend that threatens to transform foreign policy into a form of economic predatory behaviour. This commercialisation of military deployment raises serious concern over entry and exit strategies for an invading/occupying army. Commercial considerations can take predominance over military mandates, hence blurring the distinction between entry criteria and financial gain. Traditional exit criteria, such as the return of stability or the achievement of a strategic foreign policy objective, also become irrelevant if the occupying army participates in capital intensive and long-term commercial enterprise. Furthermore, if forces are essentially self-funding, financial constraints of deployment become marginalised. In this manner, while semi-commercial criteria can create an incentive for entering a conflict, the establishment of entrepreneurial schemes by military commanders and political élite provide a strong disincentive for troop withdrawal. In order to sustain advantageous resource extraction ventures, a strong security presence is necessary; and if the security presence is strong enough, the sovereign of the occupied territory is effectively held hostage and discouraged from seeking better deals elsewhere. Even the suspension of International Monetary Fund loans and some foreign aid has not affected Zimbabwe’s determination in the DRC.

Unlike Zimbabwe, Rwanda and Uganda do not show a predominant interest in commercial ventures, although entrepreneurial activity forms a substantial component of their DRC invasion. Both countries entered the DRC after direct security threats from rebel groups. Rwanda was perhaps more inclined to intervene due to continued threats from the Interahamwe militias. Uganda, on the other hand, was pushed to intervene after Rwanda’s failure to take Kinshasa, with the itinerant mobilisation of neighbours behind Kabila. The fact that Kabila rode to power with the help of these two countries and then turned his back on his past alliances was an additional reason for Rwanda and Uganda to oppose his regime.

However, both armies were quick to profit from their military forays into the DRC, especially once the important diamond centre, Kisangani, was taken. It is not possible to determine conclusively whether the Ugandan and Rwandan governments fully support commercial enterprising by troops, although the levels of entrepreneurial engagement seem to suggest more than a passive role. As a result, it is difficult to ascertain the genuine exit requirements of both countries. Until now, Uganda and Rwanda have refused to withdraw until their border security is guaranteed. This is practically impossible, since the Interahamwe militias cannot be effectively disarmed. The DRC is furthermore so large and the terrain so difficult to traverse that insurgents can operate from its territory with impunity. Therefore, from a purely military perspective, Rwanda and Uganda may find it necessary to remain in the DRC indefinitely. Such a scenario also has positive commercial spinoffs since it could include retaining control of key commercial/strategic sites such as Kisangani. It has yet to be seen what degree of domestic political and economic costs Museveni and Kagame are willing to incur before withdrawing from the Congo.

Ironically, a reverse angle of analysis can be used to understand military commercialism. Kabila faced imminent threat from Rwandan and Ugandan troops on the outskirts of Kinshasa in August 1998. As a result, the beleaguered president offered irresistible financial incentives to those who would help him and assured the support of two major military powers, Angola and Zimbabwe.⁴⁴ In this manner, Kabila, who has no effective army, relies instead on the militaries of his allies to preserve his regime, doling out financial guarantees to this end. In this manner, Kabila may have linked his regime’s survival to the financial fortunes of neighbours deployed in his support, most notably Zimbabwe. Had the initial ‘rebel’ invasion succeeded in toppling Kabila, the millions of dollars in unpaid ZDI contracts from the first war as well as other money invested "... in partnerships with the Kabila regime"⁴⁵ would not have been recovered. Zimbabwe has invested further, through companies such as Osleg, meaning that military withdrawal without assurances of Kabila’s safety could result in financial disaster. Therefore, while this article considers the predatory nature of stronger states deployed in the DRC, Kabila’s relationship with Mugabe suggests that Kabila is getting a bargain. Indeed, Zimbabwe’s entry and exit strategies appear to revolve around financial dividend on investment. Kabila not only receives strong military backing from an outside source that is financially tied to his survival, but he also generates income through external investment in the DRC’s resources. He has looted from those few profitable businesses in the DRC and needed foreign investment in the form of Osleg or Ridgepoint to supply more cash. Thus, while the weak state supplies a stronger state’s sovereign with patronage payments, a strong state supplies the same for the ‘predatory’ sovereign of the weaker state.

Since independence, the world has seen the legitimisation of African military involvement in the affairs of neighbouring states, either through the transfer of arms, support or acquiescence to neighbouring dissidents, direct invasion or raids. While the academic discourse is dominated by the repetition of the fallacy that conflict in Africa has become more intrastate than interstate in character, the opposite is true. On a continent characterised by soft and unclear borders within which state control often does not extend beyond the end of urban sprawl, military and political interference in the affairs of neighbouring countries is often the norm.

The creation of a beneficial triangular relationship between a weak sovereign, mining companies and a highly armed PMC is apparently no longer the domain of the private sector. Increasingly, formal commercial ventures through troop deployment to a country such as the DRC suggests that African states are seeking viable business opportunities through external deployment, much like the previous involvement of Executive Outcomes in countries such as Angola and Sierra Leone.

What distinction are to be drawn between the security and survival of the state, and the security and survival of its present ruling élite? In many cases, it appears that the latter, rather than the former consideration, actually dictates policy. In this respect, the privatisation of war and the use of armed forces of other countries in the interests of a small élite, sometimes in neighbouring countries, has become an emerging trend across large swathes of Africa. Heads of state and the political élite appear to be deploying the instruments of sovereignty for personal and private ends rather than in support of national objectives as the competition for resources in the absence of sustained economic growth grows ever more intense.

Military commercialism represents a new form of violent accumulation of wealth by Africa’s patrimonial networks. This synergy between troop deployment and financial gain is the result of diminishing domestic resources and the possibility of favourable commercial positioning in a neighbouring failed state. This is not to suggest that commercial criteria dominate and drive foreign troop deployments, since political and security concerns arguably remain at the forefront of foreign policy objectives. Thus, the profit motive may not be the most important consideration leading a government to pursue a predatory foreign policy, but it clearly has increased in salience. Once troops have been deployed, the returns to be gained from the deployment may mutate its nature and extent.

State treasuries have little to gain from external troop engagement, but patrons within the state bureaucracy gain access to profits, some of which may not be readily available in their own economies. The synergy between the military and commerce during the deployment supports domestic clientelism, upholding the patrimonial state, thus threatening to make sovereigns dependent upon this method for securing patronage payments. Therefore, the deployment of troops to the DRC was not based fully on economics, but subsequent military commercialism has set a negative precedent. With the African security crisis far from over and an increasing reliance on African responses to the continent’s problems, it must be questioned whether this is a new trend for relatively stronger states competing over the resources of their fragmented neighbours. A dangerous trend develops when the soldiers are conducting the exploitation at the behest of despotic sovereigns attempting to strengthen or sustain their regimes and feed their systems of patronage

Research for this article was made possible through funding from the Embassy of Finland in South Africa. The article is part of a project to determine the degree to which natural resources fuel Angola’s civil war. Much of the interpretation was gained through interaction with research staff at the Institute for Security Studies, in particular Dr Rocklyn Williams, Mr Mark Malan, Mr Richard Cornwell and Dr Jakkie Cilliers, as well as substantial input from Professor William Reno at North-Western University. The interpretation and conclusions remain those of the author.

I Smillie, L Gberie & R Hazleton, The heart of the matter: Sierra Leone, diamonds and human security, Partnership Africa Canada, January 2000, <www.web.net/pac/pacnet-l>.



See C Moskos & F Wood (eds), The military: More than just a job?, Pergamon Brassey’s, Washington DC, 1988.



One such moving company that services the Washington DC area recruits US Army personnel from Fort Meyer in Arlington, Virginia. Through ongoing communication with Richard Dietrich, Washington DC.



M Malan, Civilian supremacy over the military: Guidelines for embryonic democracies, Political Science thesis from the University of Stellenbosch, 1994, p 73, according to Moskos.



A Brenes & K Casas (ed), Soldiers as businessmen: The economic activities of Central America’s militaries, Arias and Cosude, San Jose, Costa Rica, 1998.



Ibid, p 6.



Ibid, p 45.



Ibid, p 109.



T Cheung, Can PLA Inc be tamed?, Institutional Investor, 30(7), July 1996, <www.imagazine.com>.



Ibid.



Ibid.



C Smith, China: World Bank loans finance Chinese Army, Washington Times Corporation, 1 November 1999.



Cheung, op cit.



S Baynham, Zimbabwe: Pax Africana, African Security Review, 4(3), <www.issafrica.org>, 26 November 1999.



However, Abacha ran a company named PANAR, registered in Liberia, "that imported supplies for ECOMOG and skimmed off the top." Through ongoing communication with Professor William Reno, North-Western University.



Through ongoing communication with Professor William Reno, North-Western University.



Domestic deployment is used loosely to define FAA deployment to UNITA areas, since the MPLA government’s control of the country pragmatically does not extend much beyond the outer limits of major towns. Thus, deployment to the far reaches of the Angolan national territory has many similar characteristics with genuine external operations.



R Cornwell, Zimbabwe: Mugabe’s choice?, African Security Review, 7(2), 1998, <www.issafrica.org>.



Uganda’s Congolese treasure trove, New African, May 1999, <www.africasia.com>.



Congo wealth lures Africa’s power-players, The Independent, 31 October 1998, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 25 November 1999.



Rhodies to the rescue, Africa Confidential, 40(22), 5 November 1999, p 5.



R Herbert, Kabila mining deal seen as ‘payment’ for Mugabe forces, The Sunday Independent, 8 November 1998.



Rhodies to the rescue, op cit, p 5.



Herbert, op cit.



M Hartnack, Private firm to aid Kabila’s war, Business Day, 27 September 1999.



I Viriri, ZDF chief in DRC mining ventures, Africa News Service, 26 September 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 24 November 1999.



Zim Army officers ‘smuggling parrots’, The Citizen, 10 January 2000.



S Barber, Stars and stripes — US finds diamond issue a hard stone to cut in Congo market, Business Day, 13 October 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 3 December 1999; quoting Zimbabwean Defence minister, Moven Mahachi.



L Santoro, Behind the Congo war: Diamonds, Christian Science Monitor, 16 August 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 24 November 1999.



Ibid.



Ibid.



F T McCarthy, Old friends, new war: Uganda and Rwanda, The Economist, 21 August 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 24 November 1999.



Uganda explains clash with Rwanda, AP Online, 25 August 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 24 November 1999.



M F Cros, Rwanda, Uganda sign Kisangani cease-fire, World News Connection, 19 August 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 10 November 1999.



Santoro, op cit.



Congolese rebels capture Kabila’s hometown, AP Worldstream, 11 May 1999, <www.newsline. dialog.com>, 24 November 1999.



A Mwenda, Kazini orders on Congo mines, Africa News Service, 16 August 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 24 November 1999.



M Nyambuya, National defence: The experience of the Zimbabwe Defence Force, African Security Review, 5(3), 1996, <www.issafrica.org>, 26 November 1999.



Baynham, op cit.



L Bartlett, War and riches inspire new African deal making, Agence France Presse, 30 September 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 24 November 1999.



Zimbabwe capitalises on DR Congo war through copper deal, Agence France Presse, 28 September 1999, <www.newsline.dialog.com>, 24 November 1999.



The riddle of Ugandan gold, New African, March 19998, <www.africasia.com>, 8 November 1999.



J Mackinlay, War lords and peace plans, paper presented at the conference on Building Stability in Africa, Pretoria, 22-24 November 1999. Moreover, these national militaries, like armed followers of warlords, do not face high casualty rates, preferring instead to divert their energies to secure profits from resource exploitation.



Angola had a clear strategic interest in maintaining a Kinshasa government beholden to the MPLA and unsympathetic to UNITA.



Congo wealth Lures Africa’s power players, op cit.