INTRODUCTION

It is certainly no coincidence that the debate about Africa's 'second liberation' and democratisation has taken place in an environment in which the major powers no longer need to compete so ferociously for Africa's international support. In the early 1990s, for the first time since independence, African rulers discovered that domestic support could be more important than foreign patrons, and this forced them to confront the inherent weaknesses of their regimes and to consider sharing power with others. The early 1990s were uncomfortable times for Africa's rulers and their clients, for all this happened at a time of deep and structural economic crisis.

The driving force behind Africa's second experiment with democracy came both from ideological conviction and the growing impatience of an ever-bolder public consciousness, and from the related matter of the continent's prevailing economic woes.

On the one hand, the politically conscious, urbanised, professional and student bodies began to rail against the continued failure of their rulers to match rhetoric and promises to economic progress, for much of Africa had experienced a steady decline in living standards through the 1970s and 1980s.

For their part, the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and other bilateral aid donors also made it quite clear that if further financial assistance was to be forthcoming, Africa's governments had to give urgent attention to their human rights' records. More specifically, they had to become politically more accountable to their people, and curb corruption. They were also required to adopt structural adjustment programmes and to allow market forces to send the major signals through their economies.

Structural adjustment entailed a number of policy changes, few of which were calculated to increase the short or even medium term popularity of the politicians expected to execute them. In short, the course of economic and political liberalisation, advocated and even enforced by the apostles of the free market, was not without a certain inherent paradox, because for many African countries structural adjustment programmes involved a sharp decline in living standards and a steep rise in the price of food and social services, especially in the towns. But locally, the democratic movement had been driven largely by popular demand for improved living standards. Structural adjustment programmes thus aggravated social welfare problems, diminishing the capacity of governments to cope with political demands. The contradiction between the imperatives of democratisation and structural adjustment soon became apparent: at the very moment when democratisation stimulated the popular demand for better social and welfare services, structural adjustment required that this be denied.

Simultaneously, the insistence upon government accountability, and the reduction in rent-seeking opportunities this brought in its train, put severe pressure upon state-centred patronage networks. This meant that, despite increasingly adverse conditions, rulers had to try to build new constituencies based on consent. In as much as structural adjustment created a drastic change in patterns of resource allocation, it eroded the clientélistic foundations on which most African state systems were based. In essence this structural adjustment/aid-linked movement towards democracy contained within it the seeds of its own undoing. As one wag put it: "At the end of the light was the tunnel."¹

There are some critics who argue that the change of emphasis from democratisation to good governance implies a recognition of these difficulties, and that the donors' priority has now shifted to the creation of bureaucratic structures capable of carrying out the instructions of foreign technocrats, rather than the will of the electorate.

As Reno Lemarchand warned us some time back, it is one thing for an urban mob, a guerrilla army or a national conference to topple a dictator, it is quite another to construct a democratic polity. This is especially true when scarce resources are made scarcer, and where the political environment has been shaped by the intolerance and brutality of previous regimes.²

The expectations of many of the opponents of autocracy have proved over-sanguine. Many of the new leaders have proved just as ambitious and fractious as the men they replaced. Furthermore, countries lack a strong civil society in the Western sense to contain them, or a political culture that internalised what Adedeji had called the five Cs: consent, consensus, conviction, commitment and compassion.³ In any event, it soon became apparent that new leaders, where they had come to power, had little or no say in shaping their countries' economic destinies, so all-encompassing was their economic dependence on external forces. It is perhaps this closing down of the political space, and the denial of policy options that constitutes the most serious flaw in the Washington consensus. By emptying the political arena of ideas, competition for power is reduced to its bare essentials, and personality and local/ethnic considerations become paramount.

Meanwhile, the very viability of many African states and their ability to provide a modicum of order or a stable enabling environment, have also been eroded by a lack of resources. The further one moves from the capital or the major centres, the weaker the influence of the state becomes.

The weakness of the centre has helped to revive the old, unresolved tensions between ethno-politics and the demands of the nation-state. Some African states have more or less disintegrated now that the end of Cold War competition means that the major international players no longer feel any pressing need to sustain largely fictitious entities as diplomatic or judicial units.

Increasingly, the men with the guns – and Africa is awash with them after the conflicts of the 1980s – have become important players in the political arena. The reduction in ideological conflict has further reduced the political and military incentives for outside powers to intervene on the continent and, contrary to some expectations, an Africa omitted from the calculations of external rivals has not become a more peaceful place. Now that local disputes are less globalised, outside powers have less influence on the conduct, termination and outcome of these conflicts. Local rivalries and antagonisms are given freer rein, being more remote from world centres of power and insignificant in terms of the global system. African states are therefore less able to rely on outside assistance to end local wars that are no threat to vital foreign interests.

In addition, new non-state actors are also given a freer rein for their activities. The 'privatisation of war' is a noticeable trend, as uprooted men-at-arms offer their services to new versions of the chartered companies.

WAR AND DEVELOPMENT

What effect does a war have on the development of a poor nation? Quite apart from the loss of life as a direct result of military action, it wrecks the physical infrastructure, from hydro-electric schemes at one end of the scale to village wells at the other. Roads and bridges may be destroyed or fall into disrepair or be obstructed by the fighting. Transport capacity and fuel supplies are redirected to military use.

War and the preparation for war divert scarce resources and energy. Trained and skilled manpower is redirected from the economy and administration. Many skilled professionals have, to all intents and purposes, fled Africa for employment elsewhere or, having completed courses overseas, simply never return. This leaves us with the prospect of the 'Haitianisation' of Africa, as those with the ability to run modern states abandon the field to local varieties of the ton ton macoute.

Warfare destroys food supplies and livestock, either directly or by their being pillaged or requisitioned by armed men whom civilian populations are unable to resist. From the vital agricultural sector, which provides the livelihoods of most African families, manpower is conscripted, press-ganged off the land or forced into flight. The social and gender relations so important to the survival of communities with small margins, are disturbed.

Veterinary services and control measures prove impossible to maintain, resulting in the rapid spread of animal disease and massive losses of stock. Because of its social and ritual importance, the loss of livestock involves more than economic damage, however, and disrupts the entire fabric of social life.

The delicate network of trade between peasant communities is disrupted and even destroyed, as is that between the towns and the countryside. Small traders, the essential links between peasant producers and the urban market, who provide farmers with access to vital agricultural inputs, are driven out of business, either because their stores are destroyed or because hostilities prevent them from selling in needy areas and they therefore refrain from purchasing surplus crops even when these are available.

Social welfare services are disrupted, schools and clinics closed, ransacked or destroyed, immunisation programmes are discontinued and hospitals placed under immense strain.

The often wanton destruction of life and property and the military use of terror undermine the sense of value and of the dignity of humanity. War wrecks religious and other value systems and may cause whole societies to slump into fatalism.

War causes massive disturbances in the settlement of whole communities, displacing them internally or externally, most often into marginal areas in the countryside or vast squatter settlements on the edge of towns, where they aggravate local demand for water, food, fuel and rudimentary services, and may distort local development plans. Such settlements of displaced persons are also the recruiting grounds for combatants to fuel the war.

Refugee camps and settlements highlight the relationship between conflict and environmental stress and degradation, though they are by no means the only links in this chain.

Most authors agree that political conflict and environmental degradation are closely interrelated, though the causal link is by no means clear cut or uniform, and cause and effect are difficult to separate.⁴ Environmental degradation and socio-political conflict are part of the same vicious spiral. A more detailed analysis could provide valuable insights into issues influencing security for nations and for individuals. What kinds of environmental problems lead to political imbalance and conflict? And what kinds of political conflicts lead to environmental degradation? A government fighting for its life tends to accord a low priority to tree planting, terracing and environmentally sound agricultural practices.

Then there is the matter of military expenditure. Phil O'Keefe of Earthscan is quoted as saying a couple of years ago that "the only early warning system you need of famine is lists of which governments are spending disproportionate amounts of the GNP on military activities."⁵

Arms purchases not only increase foreign debt, they require the growing of more export/cash crops, often at the expense of food crops, to earn the necessary foreign exchange. Sometimes weapons shipments have even been paid for by the direct transfer of internationally provided emergency food aid shipments.

The whole question of conflict in zones with meagre resources raises another set of questions, those concerning individual versus national security. Only too often we accept the definitions of security offered by national governments, without questioning what is at stake or whether the defence of the status quo in fact offers security to the individuals and communities constituting a country: physical security, cultural security and so on. As Irving Markovitz asked more than 20 years ago: "Stability for whom and in whose interest?" ⁶Our current crop of crises raises the question of how much longer the United Nations, and by extension the Organisation of African Unity as well, will be able to maintain even a theoretical position of non-interference in the internal affairs of member states?

There is a very good case to be made for states and individuals taking a wider view of security than that generally offered in strategic or military terms. Particularly in Africa, with its fragile environment, security has to address the needs of people, especially those leading a marginalised life, as much as it does the security of the state. Indeed, the two are inseparable.

It may perhaps be thought of as odd to be writing of conflict just when a number of civil wars appear to be coming to an end. With absolutely no desire to indulge in Schadenfreude, I think we should temper optimism with a realistic consideration of just how long the road back will be for those countries where the end of protracted conflict may now be in sight. Rehabilitation involves more than the rebuilding of physical infrastructure – roads, water supply, housing, schools, clinics, reclaiming land to agricultural use, and the resettlement of vast numbers of refugees and displaced persons. It also means restoring the confidence of local people, especially those returning to their homes, in the agents of government and law and order – the very agents who may have been responsible for the devastation in the first place.

This brings us to the dangers inherent in the continuation of a culture of violence. Christopher Clapham put the consequences of a general awareness of the fragility of the state, leading to the increased viability of resistance to bad government, most succinctly: "Resistance, however, is infectious; and once the boundaries of peaceful political opposition have been crossed, the prospects of a further resort to violence are enormously increased ... War teaches few skills beyond the use of weapons; it destroys much of the already weak economic base on which a newly independent government must painfully build; and fighters who view themselves as having borne the brunt of the struggle for freedom, then find their expectations of victory bitterly disappointed, have few resources with which to improve themselves beyond a renewed resort to arms. ... However understandable the initial resort to violence may be, its long term consequences are appallingly counterproductive."⁷

As James Mayall has remarked, "... the fact that the Soviet model is no longer available, does not mean that Africa is made safe for social democracy and liberal capitalism... It is possible that ... the culture of insurgency may have taken root. If so, it is likely to frustrate all attempts to construct a viable political order."⁸

In conclusion, what is to be done? As a matter of priority, the realisation has to be reinforced that much of what happens in Africa is conditioned by the unequal and inequitable relationship between this continent and the rest of the world. This is revealed most starkly in the unsustainable burden of debt under which many of Africa's states now labour. To change the metaphor, this debt is the chain by which many are coerced into policies that are in all conscience destructive of the social fabric and political peace. So long as this problem remains unaddressed, the outside world will continue to find itself assailed with pleas for humanitarian, peacekeeping or peacemaking assistance.

CIVIL SOCIETY AND SECURITY

There is much talk about democratisation in the African context these days. As with the concept of globalisation, there is a grave danger that we surrender to the temptation of reifying the idea of democracy – of seeing this phenomenon as one thing, rather than as a variety of coping mechanisms, adapted to the prevailing circumstances.

There is also a tendency in much of the current literature about the process of democratisation to see each country as located somewhere on a continuum. This is modernisation theory revisited. Where it also fails to reflect the experience of many African states and communities is in its inclination to seek likenesses with the Western experience, which is tacitly accepted as the norm, even though there are many questions to be asked about the nature of these idealised forms of democracy. This is most apparent in the search for civil society, which is assumed to be one of the elements vital to the democratic project. Yet, Western insistence upon conformity to a culturally and historically specific norm may be self-defeating in its expressed intention to secure human rights and civil peace. As certain innovative researchers have demonstrated, what is remarkable about Africa is the way in which the well-known phenomenon of the second economy is paralleled by a second politics involving the creation of voluntary neighbourhood governments and rural grassroots movements that produce alternative institutions of decision-making, drawing on customary notions of justice, fairness and political obligation.

In addition to this, one may identify certain centres of power alternative to the formal political arena emerging among groups and in areas that suggest an adaptation of traditional systems. This again is a process with various manifestations and full of interesting possibilities. It is here that Africa's ability to innovate will be revealed, for better or worse. Here is an area for further investigation and analysis. One suspects that it is here, rather in the impossible uniformity advocated by the acolytes of globalisation, that African communities will find the answers to the quest for security.

ENDNOTES

R Lemarchand, African Transitions to Democracy: An Interim (and Mostly Pessimistic) Assessment, Africa Insight, 22(3), 1992, p. 178.



Ibid.



A Adedeji, Sustaining Democracy, Africa Report, 37(1), 1990, p. 30.



See, for example, IDS Bulletin, 27(3), 1996, entitled War and Rural Development in Africa; P Chaterjee and M Finger, The Earth Brokers: Power, Politics and World Development, Routledge, London and New York, 1994, pp. 23-24; M B Brown, Africa's Choices: After Thirty Years of the World Bank, Penguin, London, 1995, pp. 100-115.



In L Timberlake, Africa in Crisis: The Causes, the Cures of Environmental Bankruptcy, Earthscan, London, 1988, p. 164.



I L Markovitz, Power and Class in Africa: An Introduction to Change and Conflict in African Politics, Prentice-Hall, Englewood Cliffs, 1977, pp. 1-5.



C Clapham, The African State, presentation to the Conference of the Royal African Society on Sub-Saharan Africa: The Record and the Outlook, St John's College, Cambridge, 14-16 April 1991, p. 15.



J Mayall, The Hopes and Fears of Independence: Africa and the World, 1960-90, presentation to the Conference of the Royal African Society on Sub-Saharan Africa: The Record and the Outlook, St John's College, Cambridge, 14-16 April 1991, p. 26.